


Under the Bridge

by IvyLee



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: (thank God this is an AU), Adding tags as the story developes, All the time, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Cars, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Fluff, Loki thinking he's better than everyone, M/M, PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, These are mostly TWs it's not all that dark, Thor Is Not Stupid, protagonists with secrets, sloppy commitment to canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyLee/pseuds/IvyLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is a college freshman with a sports scholarship, looking to get the most out of a golden opportunity; Loki is just looking to survive the year. A (not-brothers) University AU with a sprinkling of corporate espionage, street racing, love in cold climates and calculated murder, all for your reading pleasure. Slow burn (obviously, completely worth it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December, 2013

He was, as always, not fast enough to outpace it, and not strong enough to turn and fight. Loki could push himself to his physical limits and then, because even though he wasn’t conscious enough to realise he was dreaming, he was aware of the liminality of his position, push himself some more, but it would never be enough. He was caught in a snare of snagging limbs, with a bloated red sky above him and a mass of something sickeningly pulsing beneath him, that, although he wouldn’t bring himself to look down at it, he couldn’t help but smell.

Loki was suffocatingly aware that he was about to die.

He waited until he felt panted breath on the nape of his neck and had no choice but to spin around, snarling, and face the monster head on, determined to at least kick and struggle, but it was no use. In one easy shove, it caught him full on the chest and sent him crashing down, winded, digging claws like wire into his collarbone and shoulders. He felt himself pressed down, down into the rotting earth, and vines like rope caught his wrists and dragged them up over his head so that he couldn’t defend his face or neck.

Loki braced for the killing blow, but it never came. Instead, he was pulled further into the earth until he was completely submerged by it, and choking on the smell. That _smell_.

 _This is flesh_ , he realised, stilling entirely. _This is rotting flesh_.

And then he was falling through the darkness.

He was falling, falling, and the wind was battering him so hard that he could barely think, and he twisted around as much as he could, reaching for a handhold in the fat and muscle, but he just kept falling.

He could see now that he was falling through a shaft of mirrors, and that sooner or later he was going to have to land. He could see the end. At the base of the shaft was a pinprick of light that expanded like an ink blot, and he was falling towards it, and he realised now that he was screaming, but he just couldn’t hear it over the wind and light, and the light came up to meet him as he fell, terrified, into it, and then he-

And then we finally woke up.

 

Clapping a hand over his mouth, he threw himself bodily out of the damp sheets, struggling to kick them off of him. The room was pitch black, the curtains having been shut before he slept, and Loki wanted to throw open the windows as quickly as he could. Instead, he knelt on the wood paneling, as still as he could, and tried to calm his breathing and ground himself.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Hand on his heart, he let out one last breath before getting up to draw the blinds, pausing for a moment before thinking to check his wristwatch.

It was 3:04. He wouldn’t go back to sleep.

Instead, he chose to take a long shower and dry his hair as noisily as he could in a display of childish passive aggression towards his neighbours. He was fairly sure he’d been shouting in his sleep, in which case, they’d be up anyways, and hopefully deciding not to call the cops.

Loki drew out the process of hairstyling as long as he could and then used a brush to tentatively cover up the scratches where he had clawed at his own neck in his sleep, but it was still only 3:55 when he finished. Obsessively, he washed his face again, brushed his teeth, ate half an apple, felt sick, threw it out and brushed his teeth again, and then trudged gloomily around his apartment, looking to indulge his sour mood.

The apartment was slightly high-end, because he could afford it, and sported warm, clean, classic décor with a modern edge, which made it homely but spacious, which was exactly how he wanted it. Loki wasn’t really one to personalise living space, but he was satisfied enough after a term here that he no longer felt like a temporary inhabitant, or out of his rights when he called it ‘his place’.

He ghosted through his kitchenette and lowered living area and past the unusually cluttered ‘spare’ room where he stashed electronics and suchlike, useless monitors and wrenches and other spare parts and what might have been part of a cooper engine piled high next to the desk with his laptops.

He specifically didn’t make his bed. He even knocked over some books, confusing the papers tucked neatly into them and losing his places. Nothing helped.

Loki had notes to revise, plants to water, bills to sort through, people to call if he needed and dubiously moralled businessmen to quietly and anonymously heckle on the net, but eventually he resolved to drag one of his scruffier dining chairs onto the balcony and wait to watch the dawn over Midgard, deliberately leaving the TV on for background noise.

Midgard consisted of the city proper and the University of Midgard, which was such a central cog in the workings of the former that they might as well be one and the same, given that they’d both popped into existence more or less simultaneously and that the city would be nothing without MU to fund and populate it. MU functioned peculiarly – it had a collegiate system, with only one college, Iceland, situated not on the main campus but to the west, closer to the sea, where the other half of the Biology department was. Unusually, however, actually joining a college was optional.

The benefits to choosing to not join a college (or to become, as they were affectionately nicknamed, a grift), as advertised by the University, were that you could pick and choose which clubs, formals and teams to join or attend, regardless of the college that hosted them, unless they were exclusive, which was fairly rare.

Loki had simply not wanted to have to live in halls and possibly share a double room.

The city, being inhabited mostly by students, was so littered with unions and government offices that the place had become, in Loki’s mind, essentially one massive safety net for the naïve or unprepared. The youth of its populace practically necessitated it.

Despite, or perhaps because of this, Midgard had an ensorcelling and genuine sort of gung-ho attitude to it that would inevitably catch you up in itself and thrust you through its taverns and kitsch corner stores, unsanctioned societies and hidden bars and seemingly endless parks and gardens; all walks of life seemed to clash brilliantly and intertwine there. As a characteristic observer, and someone who valued privacy, Loki contented himself with merely allowing all this mess to carry on around him while he kept to himself.

Still, he could appreciate Midgard for what it was, and that was a city of doors.

One such door lead to Vanir Motors, and Freya. His own personal safety net. If, Loki mused to himself, he could only survive this one last day of forced social interaction, he could sequester himself within the autoshop and spend the rest of the year tinkering under bonnets and maybe in some hard drives, with Freya down the hall and Angie at the other end of his phone. Hopefully he could spend the entire Christmas season without having to endure a single instance of small talk that way.

Loki smirked silently at the view outside and tilted back his head, letting his hair flow around his neck, intending to remain there until his phone’s alarm roused him permanently.

This was obviously a pipe dream, but he knew through experience that if he kept unusual hours and put enough effort into it, he could more or less make it happen.

All he needed to do was survive the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something i'd like to flag:
> 
> The rating of this story will almost certainly go up. Originally this was going to tackle pretty much every taboo subject out there, but now I'm not quite sure that's necessary. Or... sane. Either way, and it might not be initially apparent, there definitely will be blood. Also, several trigger warnings. And archive warnings. But I'll change those when/if it becomes appropriate. Sorry if this is an inconvenience. 
> 
> Oh! Also! This is the first fanfiction I've ever written. In fact, apart from coursework assignments (and I don't even take English at school any more), it's more or less the first piece of creative writing I've ever written at all. Hopefully it'll all get better, but right now, I have no idea what I'm doing. Send help. To any cringing betas or talented authors out there: a) God I am so sorry, b) please don't hesitate to send advice/constructive criticism/hatemail.
> 
> Thanks,
> 
> Ivy


	2. December, 2013 II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for second hand embarrassment. The best type.

Loki stumbled into class with as much subtlety as he could muster. He was, due to snow on the metro tracks and the city’s pathetically under budgeted bus system, hideously late, and soaking wet, and he should have taken the Ninja.

He’d at least had the foresight to enter the lecture hall through the rear fire exit. It meant could deposit himself in the vacant back row with relative inconspicuousness.

It being the last day of term, the hall was fairly empty. Most of his peers had mooched off to Austria or Whistler or wherever while the flights were still cheap, figuring they had better things to do than cope with professors sloppily wrapping up courses they’d already achieved credits for. Several people turned to blink lazily at him as he snuck in, but for the most part they kept their eyes fixed glumly on the projector. Even Loki’s chem professor seemed uninspired to carry on.

Loki figured it’d be a better use of his time to crack open his Notebook and start the evaluation for the prac he had to finish next period, to clear up his time over the holiday. His Chemistry classmates had initially found it a novelty that he would do Physics or programming work at the back of a class that seemed to waste most of its time covering and recovering chiral compounds, but this interest had worn off quickly. Thankfully.

The reason for Loki’s having so much variance in his classes despite attending a British university was not so interesting anyways. He was simply on a Natural Sciences course with enough flexibility that it allowed him to study several separate sciences if he wanted, as well as a non-science subject in a minor stream.

Loki furrowed his brow and hid a yawn. This class was dull and he’d be glad to be rid of it. His professor was uninteresting. _Chemistry_ was dull, and had been a mistake. He’d drop it at the end of the school year.

The coursework he was motoring away at was insipid too; everything he wrote down was more or less copied from his specification, or SparkNotes.

He trawled his way through the chem session and the resistivity practical after that, which he’d already done in 6th form college, ate quietly in the library and made sure he was early for his next, lit (blessed, blessed 19th century industrial literature) class, only to realize he’d left a satchel with half of his handwritten notes for the practical task lying around somewhere during the day.

Loki could have kicked himself. He _needed_ those. And there wasn’t enough time now to go searching for them before class started. So he’d have to waste the afternoon of his last day of school that year in the snow, trudging between departments and retracing his steps to find it. Of course.

Loki’s afternoon class went much the same way as the morning ones, except now, were it possible, he was in an even dourer mood. He devoted his time to telling people to fuck off with as much effectiveness as possible using only his eyes. It was a honed trait. Not even the sight of eternally chipper Thor Odinson, when he ambled in sheepishly half an hour late, could brighten Loki’s day. He had resolved to remain miserable.

Thor, although he probably didn’t know it, was the closest thing Loki had to a friend in Midgard. That being said, their relationship hadn’t extended past formalities in the hallways and Thor trying, once, to recruit Loki for some martial arts club he did after seeing Loki catch another student’s tipped lunch tray without averting his gaze from a worksheet.

Angie was trying to encourage Loki to take this relationship to the next level – the big ‘introduce yourself to him’ – but Loki didn’t know that it was worth it. In his experience, the closer you got to people, the more you realized that they were human, and flawed, and sometimes complete assholes, and then your idolized view of them crumbled. Far be it for Loki to know Thor as anything other than a winning goof with the body of a Greek god. He would content himself to sit behind Thor in class, eavesdrop on his conversations with those members of his closer friendship group who were in the same stream, and make eye contact with the back of his head for longer than was socially acceptable.

Their personalities probably didn’t mesh well anyways.

 

Thor was deliberately tardy packing his things away after Dr Sitwell finished his lecture, and he could tell by the disproving look on Pepper and Natasha’s faces that they knew exactly why. Steve glanced, confused, between the three of them, before raising his eyebrows in realization and giving a tired grin-slash-eye roll.

‘You’re ridiculous, Thor’, he said, and then paused to try to find the right words. ‘That guy-‘

‘He’s an asshole.’

‘Tash! Come on.’ This was Pepper, glancing towards the back of the hall and waving at Natasha to lower her voice. Ever the interceder.

‘What? He is. Thor, I don’t know what your thing is with him. He’s a rude prick. He’s an Ice Queen. Do you have any idea how many of my girlfriends came to me crying during fresher’s because of that guy?’

Thor was hoping that he could pout enough to inspire sympathy in Natasha, but she wasn’t stupid and it wasn’t working. No matter how pathetically he scuffed his shoes.

‘No, listen, Thor, Tasha’s right,’ Pepper nodded. The traitoress. ‘People like Loki… they…’

‘They’re born with a pretty face and they realize by the time they’re potty trained that it means they’ll never have to develop a personality to go with it. _Or_ , alternatively, they don’t realize that they _do_ need to not be a total dick to everyone around them until it’s too late. Or they never realize it at all.’

Thor gave up his bid for compassion and leaned back in his seat, arms folded. ‘Natasha.’

‘What do you see in him, Thor?’ asked Pepper, now standing with the rest of them, clacking her nails on the desk. ‘Why do you want to be his buddy so badly?’

Thor saw in Loki someone who was bright, and shy, and had put up barriers, and skipped class too frequently for it to be normal. But there was something else to him, too. He had an intrigue that Thor was shocked no one else noticed. Not to mention that he had the sort of face and body that Thor wouldn’t mind having writhing underneath him. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud. Not that he was ashamed of it. Not- he- well, there it was. There was something about Loki that just overwhelmed Thor. Nobody he knew made him feel this much like an incapable child.

Thor pointedly ignored the others and gazed up to where Loki was clacking away at his laptop, cheek on palm. ‘I’m gonna ask him.’

Natasha rolled her eyes, giving him a hopeless gesture before meandering off with Steve, who had already given up on the conversation and was chuckling to himself.

Pepper stayed. ‘They invented eBay for a reason, you know’, she pointed out, head cocked. Thor just flashed her that annoying grin that said he was going to do exactly what he wanted to do, which made Pepper scoff and slap him over the shoulder. ‘Be that way, you ass,’ she smirked, and then: ‘See you at Tony’s tonight.’

Thor listened to Pepper leave with the others, before scooping up his books and treading softly up the stairs.

 

Loki couldn’t be bothered to go back to the library to consolidate his notes, seeing as it wouldn’t take him over 20 minutes. It was peaceful enough where he was.

Or, it should be.

Five minutes after class had ended, and Loki was painfully aware that Thor’s bunch was still chattering by the front entrance. What made it worse was that he couldn’t pick up what they were saying, so he couldn’t even judge them for it.

Ugh. People. Go away.

Sitwell was a joy to listen to, but some of the stuff he had to say was absolute rubbish. Everything was phallic according to him. Characters live in houses with chimneys? Chimneys look like dicks. Phallic imagery. Characters are human? Humans are long and sort of pointy. Phallic. It was ridiculously juvenile, and it irked him.

But what he really didn’t get was what Sitwell had to say about interclass relationships in industrial cities. Even as the noise died down and Loki could engross himself properly in the material, it didn’t make sense to him. Loki wasn’t guileless or unaware; he just didn’t understand where Sitwell was coming from with his points of view.

About 3 feet away from where he was sitting, somebody cleared their throat.

Loki, who had by now presumed himself to be totally alone, jumped straight out of his seat like a startled cat, only to land back in it on his ass, jaw hanging open in shock. Thor Odinson was standing directly in front of him, facial expression indicating that he was somewhere in between feeling concerned at the reaction and trying not to shit himself laughing.

Loki scoffed and tried to catch his breath, forcibly relaxing his shoulders and shutting his laptop lid. ‘Thor! Ah. What is- I- you- can I…?’ _Nice_ , he thought. _Perfect_. He lamely gestured at Thor, surreptitiously starting to pack his things away at the same time. ‘Can I help you?’

Thor twisted his lips in an obvious effort not to grin, before turning around slightly so he could indicate Loki’s satchel, which hung over his, Thor’s, shoulder. ‘You left your books in the physics department earlier. The janitor had them.’

Loki’s face blanked in surprise. ‘What were you doing in Physics?’

‘I…’ Thor frowned as if he knew what he was about to say wouldn’t be received well. ‘Actually, I was looking for you.’

Loki’s posture remained calculatedly neutral. Thor was right. This wasn’t OK. It was creepy. Furthermore, Thor was, for all intents and purposes, practically looming over him. The apprehension in the pit of his stomach was beginning to coil into something significantly nastier. Loki was beginning to wonder whether he should have booked it to the library when he had the chance.

They were completely alone here. Loki was within Thor’s physical reach. Why had Thor been looking for him in the SHIELD labs earlier? The Physics and English departments were just under 15 minutes away from each other on foot. Thor had known he would see Loki in a few hours anyways. Why did Thor have his things? Why had Thor deliberately remained after class to approach him when he was clearly occupied?

Thor seemed to have become aware of Loki’s unease because he stopped and took a step back. ‘Look, Loki. The reason I was looking for you… I wanted to…’

And then he paused, for far too long. Neither of them moved. Thor glanced around the room before returning his gaze to Loki. He was nervous, which was uncharacteristic of him. This was all wrong. Thor sighed, shrugged, and then took a breath. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

No, no, no, no, no, Loki did not like where this was going. At _all_. He stood up, drawing himself up as much as he could next to Thor, who towered over him on a good day, and slung his rucksack across his shoulder. ‘You could,’ he remarked, nonchalantly. ‘Or, alternatively, you could, you know, keep your nose out of other people’s business, and know when to weirdly trail around strangers after class and when to _fuck off_.’

Loki took Thor’s reaction to this – that was to say, Thor’s utter shock - as an opportunity to twist himself smoothly through the gap between his classmate and the desk that ran across the entire row, following it to the end and walking smartly down the stairs. He made sure not to run until he was through the doorway and out of sight.

Loki darted down the corridor, blushing with adrenaline and embarrassment and close to tears.

He had no idea what he had just done, or why. All he knew was that he had to get _out_ of there. He could hear Thor calling out to him, but that just spurred him on further. He practically tore out of the building, down a green and then across the empty street, now floodlit as the sun set. Already on one of the borders between campus and city, Loki took himself around the back of a local pub where the bins were kept, glancing behind himself only once, and crumpled against a wall.

He counted to 10 with his face in his hands, tried to stop shaking, and then swore once and told himself not to be so pathetic, and to get a move on. He lit a cigarette and smoked the whole thing. Then, he realized: it was snowing and he’d left his jacket back in the lecture theatre.

And his _books. Thor had his books_. Oh, God, what a _mess_. What an _idiot_ he was.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and paced in a circle, glancing down at the ground in the hopes that it’d swallow him up, but to no avail.

Also, he was going to miss his bus. His shitty, humid, underheated, once-every-half-an-hour bus. Where, oh where was his beautiful little Ninja when he needed it? What was up with all this thrice-damned _snow_?

He could buy a new coat. He could get his coat from lost and found next term. There was no way on earth he was going to miss his bus to go and get his coat – and books - from _Thor_ , who was probably still standing dumbstruck in the empty lecture theatre.

Fuck the books. He had electronic copies of almost everything at home. He probably had notes from the last prac he did. They were more or less identical.

He could forge the data. It’s not like they were going to use it for anything important. He hadn’t had any anomalies anyways. R is proportional to l. Big surprise. OK.

Everything was going to be OK. He’d just work around this. Coat, books, satchel. He wasn’t forgetting anything else. He had his laptop. It would be fine. He would go home, and he would have a shower. Fine.

Waiting at the bus stop just a block away, Loki reflected that this day could probably not have been much worse if every supernatural force on Earth had linked efforts to make it so. He stood in the corner of the shelter with another cigarette between his lips, shivering, and stared at his phone, which had no new messages, until the bus came, 5 minutes late, right on queue.

Loki was the last on board, and as he stepped up to greet the conductor, shaking snow from his hair, something clicked in his mind and he froze in absolute horror.

This was it. This was the climax, the pinnacle, of his absolutely horrible fucking day. Loki _couldn’t_ get on the bus and he _couldn’t_ ride it home. Loki couldn’t get on the bus because, since he knew he’d get free lunch from Ms Tarnaki in the forum, and because his rucksack was full, he’d left his wallet, with his money and his student’s public transport pass in one of the card slots, in the outside pocket of the same satchel that had his prac notes in it, and was currently, probably, sitting on the shoulder of Thor Odinson.

Loki opened his mouth and closed it again, speechless for the second time that day. He took a deep breath.

Then he began to talk to the conductor. He didn’t shout. He didn’t whine. He just tried, very evenly, to get the woman to empathize with him. He started to explain himself. He would _not_ say ‘it’s Christmas.’ Even he wouldn’t stoop so low. But either way, she wouldn’t buy it. She was tough.

Loki was just about to resign himself to his fate when an arm reached over his shoulder to present the conductor with a pass. Obviously someone had come up behind him and then decided they’d waited enough. Hence Loki’s surprise when, trying to wriggle his way off the bus and onto the pavement again, the conductor grinned condescendingly at him and took the card from whoever was behind him, handing it to Loki and waving him onboard. Loki made a puzzled face at the conductor and then a skeptical one at the pass.

Wait.

For a moment, it was if time itself had been drawn out, and Loki was damningly stuck in this moment. He became critically aware of every huff and shuffle, every impatient eye in the entire bus.

This was his. It was _his_ pass. Which meant-

Loki felt sick to his stomach. Which meant that the person standing behind him was Thor.

He turned, face still comically incredulous, to face the blonde, who took the most apologetic inhalation of breath Loki had ever heard and handed him his coat and satchel.

Loki didn’t move as Thor got off the bus. He was paralyzed with shame. Loki wasn’t religious, but he was fairly sure that if God was real, when he died, he would go to hell. And in hell, Loki would have to relive this scene over and over again for the rest of eternity.

Thor, for his part, looked truly regretful, if a little amused, but as if he realized the situation was too serious to laugh at. He bowed his head softly and turned away, pausing once and briefly.

‘Merry Christmas, Loki.’

And then the doors slid shut.

 

Loki walked to the end of the bus with a completely impassive expression. He sat down in the empty back row. He took out the file with his resistivity notes, cracked it open in the middle, and buried his face in it.

He didn’t move until he reached his stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that went well. Don't you? I do.
> 
> \- Loki's bike: http://www.kawasaki.co.uk/ZX-10R. It's black with green. I had to. And it's not little, I know. I guess Loki just has a thing for power. And big, powerful engines. Oh ho.
> 
> \- 'Under the Bridge', huh. What's the story behind that? There isn't one. If anyone comes up with anything better, give me a shout. We can do a contest maybe.
> 
> Anyways, please review and point out errors and all that! Attention-starved artist at work here, people. *bats eyelashes*
> 
> Ivy


	3. (July, 2011)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet Angie.
> 
> TW for fairly ignorant and nonchalant discussion of suicide/psychological disorders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the feedback. It's so lovely to get! Thanks especially to 1bojanglesmen2 for the chocolate (for the record, though, I prefer dark).
> 
> I don't know if I said this before but this is being updated more or less simultaneously at fanfiction.net under the same name, with the pseud 4Lee. You might want to read it there if you don't want to see notes/chapter summaries (with warnings). Otherwise it's identical.

Dr Vidia did not smile at her patient as he entered, or visibly react when he refused her handshake to steal around the coffee table and perch delicately on her couch.

She would not throw pretenses into the air. She made no attempt to comfort him. She knew he would scorn the hollowness behind such familiar expressions from a stranger. She knew, through his file and through the babbled explanations of Freyr Njordson down several long-distance lines, that Loki Liesmith wasn’t the type to fall for it, whatever ‘it’ may be.

In this light, Angrboda tried to present a version of herself to Loki which was as close to the reality as possible, and that was someone who was cool, tolerant and level-headed. She had dealt all through her career with people who were dancing on knife edges – even as a student she had volunteered at ChildLine, talking teenagers out of blowing out their brains in between coffee breaks. She knew what it meant to hold lives in her hands.

She also knew that she was going to do her best to help her patient, and not only because it was her job. She had seen colleagues grow insensitive after years of repeated experience, and vowed never to let herself do the same. From what she understood, this single session might be, for Loki, the difference between life and death.

As all this flashed through Angrboda’s mind, she arranged the hem of her skirt over her crossed legs, and Loki inspected her couch as if he would rather be sitting out in the street. This nonchalance of his was a very well practiced façade, she knew. She was more than accustomed to patients putting up false fronts to defend themselves.

Dr Vidia finally broke off their mutual visual inspections to introduce herself; Loki interrupted before she could finish a sentence.

‘I know who you are. Obviously. And you me,’ he said, before continuing his inspection of the doctor and her office. Despite being raised in America, his accent was distinctly British, like his mother. Which was going to be worth investigation later on.

‘I had rather expected a chaise longue,’ he noted with a sober huff, as if the seating arrangements were, to him, the world’s most solemn issue. ‘But I suppose we can make do. Such a well-tended desk,’ he nodded towards the room’s windowed wall. He continued his sweep around the room, peering at a portrait on a bookshelf.  ‘Is this your daughter?’ It wasn’t. He knew that. 

Angrboda sighed quietly through her nose. ‘Loki. I understand if, and, as you know, why, you don’t feel ready to talk sincerely to me. But I think there are other ways to get around that than this… rather obvious inversion tactic.’ She quirked a brow at him, giving her first smile since he’d entered. ‘Actually, I’d expected a bit more from you. But then again I suppose you aren’t really trying, are you? You’re probably weary of all this by now.’

Loki, who had angled his head away from Dr Vidia during her dialogue and pointedly avoided her gaze, slid his eyes back over to her and fixed her with a stare. He had stilled almost entirely.

Loki was not a narcissist, but she knew nevertheless that he wasn’t going to open up to her until she could prove herself, and her intelligence, to him. If Loki knew that Dr Vidia was getting to him, then he would also know that she was, in his eyes, a worthy opponent, at least somewhat. This session was going to be as much about showing that she could see, really see, and understand, and, hopefully, help Loki, as it would be actually doing it.

Well. Angrboda was more than confident in her analytical abilities.

‘I also,’ she continued, ‘suppose that I’m more or less accurate in my estimations of what you’re thinking about me, and this,’ she gestured around the room, ‘right now. But you should know, Loki, that _I’m_ ready to take _you_ seriously. And if _you_ don’t want to talk, you should know that I am. And so I will.’ _Time to cut the crap, as they say_. They would get nowhere here if they spent the whole time working against each other.

So Dr Vidia talked to Loki. She covered the basics – she told him what he’d done that wasn’t his fault and what had been done to him that wasn’t his fault, and listed the psychological issues she, as a trained professional, could tell he was facing despite the fact he had probably diagnosed himself with them eons ago.

Angrboda carried on a conversation with Loki without any input on his part whatsoever. With every new topic, she explored and addressed his every possible response to it and stance on it. She spoke about things that people (who were working towards too utilitarian a goal to truly care for him) had flung in his direction before with more depth than he could ever have perceived imaginable. She spoke, for a whole hour, about forgiveness and crime and empathy and morals, about the definitions of what she spoke of and the flexibility within them, about debt and about repentance and blame and failure. She covered, or at least she hoped she did, as much as Loki could possibly imagine within a single hour. She talked to him about choices and about trust. She told him that people always had a choice, but that there are some situations that those who claim that it’s impossible to be forced into anything have obviously had the good fortune to never be in. she told him about the people who were there for him. She talked about the light at the end of the tunnel. Around 45 minutes into her monologue, she began to feel doubtful, and embarrassed, under his consistent scrutiny, but she persevered. Finally, she told Loki that he had a choice now, and everything she had discussed with him had to be considered when it was made, but when all was said and done that choice had to be made about, and for, no one but himself.

She said, ‘and that is all I have to say.’

Loki stared, not for the first time, fixedly and directly at her, deep in thought. When he finally spoke, it was with such rawness and emotion that Angrboda barely recognized that she was listening to the same person who’d sat down with her an hour ago.

Loki told Dr Vidia that in a few minutes he was going to need to, if she pleased, borrow her laptop. Then he told her about the bottle of arsenic he had in the second drawer of his bedside table from the top. After a pause, he continued talking. And although he hid his face in his hands, and his speech became progressively more broken until he was essentially sobbing openly, he didn’t stop talking.

Angrboda nodded to say that, yes, he could use her laptop to prevent whichever hosting platform from publishing, presumably at a specified time, his suicide note (which probably contained less ‘I’m sorry for what I’m about to do’ and more ‘here is a list of information I’ve withheld from various relevant agencies for reasons which are personal, and therefore no longer appropriate’). Then, she closed her eyes in relief, palming her cellphone through her coat pocket only to decide that that could wait for later.

Instead, she waved through her translucent door to indicate to her secretary that her next appointment ought to be cancelled, and returned her attention to Loki. She didn’t at all attempt, physically, to comfort him.

She just listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliche? What? Me? *runs away* (Edit: I took the Mary Sue test for Loki in this story and he got the worst score possible. By now I've just decided to roll with it. Heck yeah, cliche.)
> 
> Pretty much everything I deal with in this story, I have no idea about (especially cars, don't get me started on the cars). I mean, really. I'm a teenage girl. I blog and experiment with weirdly named cocktails. So I'm sorry if my ignorance ends up causing offence.
> 
> Thanks again for the reviews!
> 
> Ivy


	4. January, 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reviewers, and kudo-ers,
> 
> When this gets picked up by a million dollar corporation and turned into the next 50 Shades, you’re all invited to the party. 1bojanglesmen2 and Destiny are providing snacks and confetti. It’s gonna be great.

Loki didn’t show up to the first day of the new semester. His absence was a crippling weight on Thor, who, throughout their one mutual class, could practically feel Loki’s empty row searing a hole into the back of his head. Judging him. He’d shown up early specifically in the hopes that he could single Loki out and try to address the business between them, but he’d obviously been naïve in his hopes that anything to do with the elusive brunette could be handled straightforwardly.

Thor told himself to bear in mind that Loki could simply still be on holiday. Or, he could just be skipping this particular class. Somehow, though, that thought just made everything worse.

Thor had been tentatively reviewing their interaction in his head all break, but he still had no idea what’d spooked his classmate like it had the last time they’d talked. Either way, he was determined to resolve the issue no matter what. There was no reason for what’d happened other than that Loki must’ve drastically misunderstood Thor’s intentions. Maybe he’d thought Thor was trying to rob him or something. Realistically, it didn’t make sense, and Thor could _tell_ him that, if only Loki wasn’t just about as easy to pin down as an epidemic.

Trying to figure out how best to corner Loki had Thor completely oblivious of the lecture, and opting instead to glare at the wall paneling, deep in thought. Tasha had started giving him _looks_ , that said ‘refurbishment of unaesthetic university property is probably not best done by arson.’

Loki. Loki spent a lot of time in Physics and Computing. Thor was pretty sure he had coursework around now, so if there was any safe bet on where to find him, it’d be there. Thor would have to skip lunch to make the slog to the other department, but if he drove he could probably catch a bite at the Synagogue, and he might even see Loki there, since it was the most logical place for someone to kill time or study between lectures in the science faculty.

And if Thor was near the Synagogue, he could also probably catch up with Tony. They needed to put their heads together and decide which unfortunate soul deserved the honor of coordinating USA’s next city-wide pub crawl, and covering the subsequent damage costs.

So heading to science faculties was a win-win scenario.

Even before they were dismissed, Thor was packing up his things, with a disciplined fervor that usually couldn’t be attributed to his interactions with things you couldn’t drink or hit. He was determined not to start the new year by dancing around a classmate like a child. He’d see him today or he wouldn’t, but he’d sort out this thing with Loki one way or another.

 

It promised to be a gorgeous day in one of the best parts of what the Guardian called ‘England’s most scenic campus’, he’d just started his favorite topic in all of pure physics, his maths tutor was off with the flu, and Loki couldn’t believe his fucking eyes.

Thor Odinson, out of all the infuriating morons on the face of the Earth, was slumped against the wall on the corner of Arago’s Way.

The blonde was looking at him with a slight smile and a cocked eyebrow, for all the world as if he owned the alleyway and everything in it, and was also, surely not by coincidence, completely obstructing his path. Loki, who’d been studying in private and hadn’t stopped at the same time the other classes had ended, realized with a smack of dread that it had to be him Thor was waiting for.

Loki could have kicked something.

He honestly had no idea what Thor wanted, but he’d allowed their last encounter to drive him up the wall all winter, waking up in cold sweats in the middle of the night. He had an old Impala in the garage (there’d been an influx of the ’67 versions recently because of some TV show) in need of attention since last October, and it was still barely a chassis. He shouldn’t have let it get to him like it did, but now he could barely remember the last time he’d felt so overrun, and all because of one unfortunate encounter.

He’d even, on Boxing Day, briefly and hysterically, proposed on the phone to Angie that he drop out of school completely and reapply somewhere else next year. It was ridiculous.

He couldn’t allow it to continue.

He marched towards Thor like a man with a purpose, determined to shut him down as quickly as possible.

He wasn’t sure, though, if he could mask the cold apprehension he felt at seeing Thor again.

At first Loki’d just thought that maybe Thor was trying to ask him out. Maybe he still was. But seeing him standing there, so physically intimidating and so self-assured, brought other fears creeping into the forefront of Loki’s mind. Maybe it was something else Thor wanted. Old broadcasts and local newspaper headlines started to flash through his head. Thor was in USA, wasn’t he? Most of those guys were international students, New Yorkers. Thor might’ve seen…

Well, whatever this was about, there was only one way to find out.

Loki drew to a halt with an abruptness that he hoped denoted self-assurance. ‘ _What_ ,’ he began, but was cut off almost immediately.

‘Look, Loki, I’m sorry. OK?’ Thor paused. He seemed suddenly as if he had no idea what to say. All his coolness had left him as soon as Loki approached. Good.

‘I,’ Thor continued. ‘Whatever happened last time, it… it was my fault. I didn’t mean to, you know… wait, wait. Could you just hear me out here?’

Loki gave Thor a drawn out and steady look to imply he was considering the request, which he had no intention of doing. He broke the long silence sharply and with a sneer.

‘Look, Thor,’ Loki said, in the coldest tone he could muster, forefinger tapping against his crossed arm. ‘I don’t want to be your friend, or your buddy, or... I have no intention whatsoever of having _any_ sort of relationship with you. I can _absolutely_ guarantee you that whatever it is you think you can give to me, I can get it myself, and on my own time. So. Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not on the market. And I trust you know _exactly_ where to shove your apologies.’

And with that, Loki briefly sidestepped Thor, who wasn’t falling for the same trick twice and turned more or less simultaneously with Loki. Damn, so not _that_ easy fooled.

‘Loki! _Please_.’

Loki wasn’t having it. He jogged deeper into the alleyway, eyes on the exit, ignoring Thor completely. Thor, though, not happy to leave things where they were, lunged forward-

-And grabbed Loki on the shoulder.

Loki reacted purely out of instinct. Given time to consider his actions, however, he probably would’ve done pretty much the same thing, given Thor’s persistent hostility. He could have thought about the consequences, though. He could have pulled his punches.

As it was, Loki grabbed Thor’s hand with his own dominant one and twisted as hard as he physically could. At the same time he crouched down, dropping his center of gravity, and swung Thor’s legs out from underneath him, using his own upper body to guide his opponent over his head and directly into a brick wall.

Thor had just about enough time to bring up his free arm to defend himself and open his mouth to swear.

As soon as Thor was off of him Loki sprung back to land in a defensive posture. Thor, for his part, just lay stunned on the floor, bringing a hand up to his temple.

For a brief moment, neither of them moved. They were caught, alone, in the alleyway, which stood like a crack in dry earth, movement far away at either end, but secluded. To Loki, it felt for all the world as if he and Thor were the only ones left in it.

Then Loki registered what exactly he had just done.

He clapped both hands to his face with a cry and dropped to the floor, trying to reach for Thor’s face to see if he was bleeding, and maybe take his pulse. Or something. He didn’t know. His hands were trembling. He was babbling incoherently, wanting to apologize as many times as he could but with only one mouth to do it. His horror was practically asphyxiating him.

Thor was just staring at his left arm as if what he was seeing did not compute with him. ‘I think you broke my hand’ he murmured, very softly. The tone he spoke with implied he wasn’t sure at all, and that it could very possibly be his leg, or his phone, that was broken.

Loki couldn’t breathe. Thor had a possible broken wrist, probable concussion. Because of him. He still could barely get words out. He knelt, transfixed, over Thor, not knowing where to put his hands, tears in his eyes. ‘I, Thor,’ he tried. ‘I… Oh God, I-‘

‘It’s fine, Loki. It’s OK. Look at me. It’s OK.’

Thor took a deep breath and tried to push himself up, failing miserably just as Loki went to stop him and dropping to the ground again. He groaned and touched his head with uncertainty, taking deep breaths. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m fine, I really… I just… need a minute.’

‘Oh, my God, Thor, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Don’t try to get up. Can… can you hear me?’

Thor nodded, now grimacing in pain.

‘Do you remember what just happened? You didn’t black out?’

Another nod.

‘OK, and…’ Loki, still shaking with adrenaline, scrutinized Thor’s eyes to confirm they were still focused. OK. He needed to think. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to not throw up on Thor right now. ‘I need you to… keep… talking to me,’ he said. As he said it, Loki tugged off his rucksack and pullover, rummaging through the bag to find a water bottle, which he emptied almost entirely onto the cloth. He really needed ice. In fact, he had no idea whether wet cloth would actually make a head wound worse and stop blood from clotting. Thor, though, he noticed, was not bleeding, and so Loki put the wet sleeve in Thor’s hand, guiding it onto his head.

He leaned back to glance up and down the alley briefly, ran his hands through his hair and sighed deeply. He mentally recited every curse word he’d ever learned, some twice for good measure. Then he looked back at Thor and swallowed.

‘I need to get you to a hospital. You shouldn’t move much, but… do you think you could stand? If I helped?’ Loki didn’t know if Thor should ride a bike right now, but they didn’t really have many options.

Thor’s facial expression reached a new level of confusion as he studied Loki. Then he turned his head away and mumbled incoherently into the floor.

What? ‘What?’

‘I said,’ Thor repeated, raising his voice, ‘you can drive stick shift, right?’

Without another word, Thor dropped the ruined pullover. At first Loki thought he was about to be hit, but then Thor, sitting up, reached into his back jean pocket, bringing out a keychain and handing it voluntarily to Loki. Loki accepted it with only a moment’s consideration, tucking it away.

It bore the brand of another Chevy, he was surprised to see.

‘Allis’ was all Loki was told by way of explanation. It was probably out of discomfort and not some attempt at mysticism that Thor was being so vague, but Loki cottoned on anyways. Thor’s car was on Allis Street, just around the corner.

Loki put one arm through the straps of both of their bags and crouched down again, apologizing all the way, maneuvering the blonde so that as much of his considerable weight as possible was over Loki’s shoulder.

They stood together, stumbling towards the end of the cobbled alleyway. Loki prompted Thor to recount the start of the day to him, so that he could tell there was no slurring in Thor’s speech, and Thor immediately mentioned Loki’s absence, and his subsequent guilt. Loki’s own guilt, were it possible, became even worse at that, and he tried as gently as possible to hurry them on. It was slow going, though; Thor winced with every sharp motion.

When they were hit by the daylight that flooded the opening of Arago’s way onto Allis Street, Loki recognized Thor’s car immediately. The minor road was, due to the time and location, flooded with so many illegally parked student vehicles that they were practically stacked on top of each other in places. Every smooth surface in sight reflected blinding rays of sun. But to Loki, the Chevy stood out like a diamond in mud.

It was a Corvette.

For a moment he stopped, dazed, before realizing his priorities ought to be elsewhere. He repositioned Thor, who was, on autopilot, still quietly listing what he’d had for breakfast, and began to maneuver their way towards the car.

Loki managed to get the convertible’s passenger door open and Thor through it before he hopped directly into the driver’s seat, careful not to get his feet on the upholstery. He fiddled briefly with the ignition and began to ease them out of the cramped space; Thor just sighed and leaned back in his seat, the filthy pullover still against the side of his head.

Loki felt physically ill looking at Thor and being reminded of what he’d done. Though he was forced to reverse onto the main road, he kept checking Thor, interrupting him to choke out more apologies and ask if he was alright. _Of course he isn’t_ , Loki’s guilty conscious sneered at him, _you just broke his wrist_.

Honestly, Loki couldn’t decide whether he was more terrified of what’d happened to Thor or what might happen to the car with Loki behind its wheel. He was shocked he’d been trusted with it at all.

‘Really,’ Thor assured him, finally dropping the pullover. ‘I’m fine now. It’s OK. I- thank you.’

‘ _Thank_ you?’ Loki asked, practically slamming on the brakes and locking the wheel to the left. ‘What… I…’

‘Thanks for not leaving me there. I thought… I thought you might.’

Loki just stared at him. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he tried to say, but… how could Thor know that? It wouldn’t be any worse than anything else he’d done to him. In fact, leaving Thor alone in that alley would probably have been the kindest thing Loki did to him all day.

Thor just should his head. ‘No. I know you wouldn’t. I think. But you could have. And maybe you should’ve, too, the way I’ve… been.’ He paused. ‘But you didn’t. So… thank you.’

Loki blinked at Thor. Then he sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. He was finally beginning to calm down. He gave Thor one more considerate look, and then reversed around the corner of the main road, quickly changing into 1st and taking the opportunity he’d been waiting for to merge with the traffic.

 

The longer Loki drove, the more deeply afraid he became. He realized he was gripping the Chevy’s wheel like a lifeline. Thor was going to be fine; Loki was considering telling him he could stop talking, but he didn’t think he could deal with the ensuing silence (Thor was now discussing exchange rates in Thailand with an avid interest).

The thing was: Loki was absolutely fucked. He could not afford another mark on his ledger. Not with his history. He was painfully aware how exactly this would look to any judging body.

Loki hoped he could maybe wrangle some sort of pity out of Thor, who already seemed fairly at ease with everything, or make a deal with him, but he doubted it would be possible. After all, Loki’d pretty much just attacked him in broad daylight. No, he _had_ done that. Anyways, it wasn’t like Thor could realize what the extent of the consequences of his understandable wish for retribution would be for Loki.

Loki realized that the longer he waited the worse this would be. So he gently cleared his throat, wringing his hands on the wheel, and told Thor that if he could and if he wanted to he could go into Loki’s bag and get his phone, which had Loki’s lawyer’s number on it.

It took Thor a moment to realize what was being said to him, and then he gasped sharply, shaking his head so hard it obviously hurt, and then groaned in regret. When he’d collected himself again, he said quietly, ‘I don’t- I don’t want to take you to court, Loki.’

‘What? But you- but I-’

‘It was an accident,’ Thor told him, determinedly, as if that was all that needed to be said.

‘It was _not_ an accident. How can you just write off… how will you pay for this? I mean, I can-‘

‘Loki. There’s this great new thing called medical insurance. You should try it.’

Loki gave Thor a withering glance and then returned his eyes to the road. The humor might have been well intentioned, but Loki was still too wired to even pretend to react to it right now. He wanted nothing more than to grab at the lifeline Thor was dangling in front of him, but he also couldn’t believe he was getting off the hook so easily.

‘I’m so sorry, Thor,’ he murmured. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

‘It’s alright. Really, it’s alright.’ There was another heavy pause. ‘If anything,’ Thor continued, ‘ _I_ should be sorry.’

‘ _What_?’

‘You were defending yourself. I shouldn’t’ve grabbed you like that. I shouldn’t’ve been here at all,’ Thor explained, calm and morose. ‘You were obviously… uncomfortable with my company. I was just, I wanted… I didn’t want to leave things like we did. But I was stupid not to be able to tell that the last thing you wanted was to see me. I shouldn’t have put you in a position where you were… you felt so scared, you had to react like that. It wasn’t your fault, Loki,’ Thor explained, deadly serious. ‘It was mine.’

Loki had no idea how to respond to that.

‘Can we just agree’, Thor asked, ‘to put all this behind us? And admit that it all probably couldn’t have gone any worse? And also, maybe get me some paracetamol?’

Loki just stared straight ahead, and gave a short nod. He wiped his eyes, which, shit, had been tearing up on and off for the last ten minutes. He could probably blame it on the convertible. Hopefully.

For a while – for most of the short journey - they drove in silence. Now that his immediate future was secure again, Loki actually found himself trying not to smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. It was true; it couldn’t have gone any worse. Then they locked eyes and Thor grinned slightly. Loki returned it only out of courtesy.

And then Thor, damn him, with the most _ridiculous_ grin on his face, _continued to talk about the exchange rate in Bangkok_ , like there was nothing he was more fascinated by. Loki couldn’t believe him. He couldn’t believe any of this, actually, and the more he thought about it, the funnier it became. It had been a horrible day. But despite it all, Loki started to laugh.

He giggled like an idiot, tears in his eyes, and Thor laughed too. It didn’t last very long, but Loki couldn’t remember the last time he had genuinely laughed. He didn’t know how, or why, anything that had just happened could be construed as funny, but something about Thor just made him feel like everything was going to be OK.

‘Oh, man,’ Thor said, sobering up as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. ‘Today has been…’

‘Educational?’ Loki immediately regretted having opened his mouth, and winced. But Thor didn’t seem to care at all.

In fact, he just grinned again, and said with mock condescension, ‘Loki? That is _exactly_ what I was going to say.’

 

At the A&E reception, Loki lied fluently and pretty drastically about Thor’s symptoms. Thor raised his eyebrows in question but wisely shut his mouth, knowing he’d probably be enlightened sooner or later.

Loki explained as he guided Thor to two free seats that hospital staff have a system of allocating new inpatients a color to reflect the severity of their injury, and they’d just effectively bypassed a few hours of waiting time. Not that it mattered; they’d both miss their PM classes. Loki assured Thor that he’d had the afternoon off anyways.

As they waited, they started to chat. Thor could barely believe it. A casual conversation, with Loki. As if everything was completely normal. As if they were waiting for class to start together.

The Loki Thor was looking at now, he realized, was a completely different person than the one he’d known a day ago. Thor’d tried as hard as he could in the car to get Loki, who was obviously in a much worse state about the whole I-just-threw-you-into-a-wall thing than Thor himself was, to calm down, and he was pretty sure he’d done alright. At first Thor had thought maybe Loki was just trying to appease him out of fear, but now he seemed to be genuinely pacified.

Loki’s expression of debilitating guilt was almost entirely gone. He was sitting up straighter.

And he was cracking jokes. Loki had an intense and sophisticated wit that’d be quite ruthless with you if you weren’t careful. And despite his almost duplicitous nature, he could be very upfront. Thor felt as if he could trust him. Thor _could_ trust him; he’d seen how Loki’d reacted after he’d hurt him.

The golden opportunity to see Loki coming out of his shell made the afternoon almost worth it, quite frankly. Thor was so used to getting close to people, only to see that they were dull or insincere. But he felt like he could lose _days_ in Loki’s company if he wasn’t focusing. All through the hour Thor had to wait, they conversed quietly, Loki becoming more and more confident as he learned that Thor really wasn’t upset with him. Which he wasn’t. Thor couldn’t bring himself to be angry at all.

Then Loki paused as if he’d just realized something, closed up again and turned away. ‘Thor,’ he asked, cautiously, ‘what… what are you going to tell them? When you get in there?’

Thor gave a low hum and squinted his eyes in consideration. He hadn’t thought about that. ‘Not the truth,’ he said. Loki didn’t even try to mask his relief. ‘I guess… my hand got caught in a bus door? Then I fell and hit my head on the pavement? And you were there, so…’

‘You caught a bus.’

‘Yes.’

‘To your car. And then you broke your wrist trying to get off.’

Thor opened his mouth and then closed it again. ‘Well, it’s possible. I could have parked, gone looking for somewhere to eat, and then caught the bus back. And you were there by coincidence. Coming from the labs. Um, and you recognized me, and decided to help, out of the goodness of your heart.’

‘Hm. And I take it it was out of _concern_ for you that I didn’t get any registration number, or witness statements, or try to stop the bus. How strange, that someone would just drive off, after so severely injuring a passenger. Stranger still that an entire busy street would just _allow_ it.’

‘It was… in… the heat of the moment?’ Thor tried, pathetically.

Loki gave him an extremely disappointed frown, and then immediately made a blank face, looking over Thor’s shoulder, where a very petite lady with sharp clothes was now standing, tapping her foot.

She glanced at her clipboard. ‘Thor… odd… Odinson? Would you come with me?’

Thor went to stand, and Loki tried to stop him, but then, resigned, let go and sat down again, because he couldn’t come up with anything better than Thor’s unbelievable story.

Then Loki tried to follow them too, but it wasn’t allowed, so he stood around uncertainly instead. Thor thought he’d done too much today anyways. Loki looked ready to collapse.

‘It’s OK,’ Thor told him, one last time. ‘I guess… I’ll see you in class tomorrow?’

Thor’s heart dropped when Loki shook his head. But the brunette just smirked at him. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ll see you when you get out. Unless you want to try your luck driving home one-handed?’

Thor beamed like an idiot. Loki looked like he honestly couldn’t understand how Thor could be so genuinely grateful to him after all he’d done, and he opened his mouth to say something (probably along those lines) but then stopped.

He simply gave Thor a solemn nod, which Thor returned before ambling away after the doctor.

Behind him, Loki sat down again, crossed his legs and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that chapter summary thing? Yeah… I lied. Just when you thought Loki couldn’t handle something any worse, right?
> 
> This monster couldn’t be complete without at least one Supernatural reference. Forgive me.
> 
> Some Midgard trivia:
> 
> \- The Synagogue is (probably obviously) not an actual synagogue, but a trendy meeting/eating location for students, about the size of a block, that works sort of in and around itself, and has what was once a synagogue at the center. 
> 
> \- The streets, Allis and Arago, that Thor and Loki are in, are both named after physicists.
> 
> \- There are 28 Midgard colleges including Iceland and they’re all named after countries. Also, it’s been brought to my attention that the thing going on with Iceland is pretty similar to the Stockton campus at Durham. Just so you know, Midgard isn’t based in any way on Durham. I’ve never been there.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated (chocolate is super appreciated).
> 
> Ivy


	5. January, 2014 II

Loki was in the same place when Thor got out. He sat propped up in the plastic chair like it was made of gold, by far the most elegant in the ensemble of nervous parents and ailing patients-to-be, flicking absent-mindedly at his iPhone’s screen to pass the time. Over his shoulders he had the coat Thor had lent him earlier when he’d lost his pullover, which was now sitting in an ASDA bag by his feet.

Thor was admittedly a little surprised that he hadn’t booked it when he had the chance.

The day was getting on and the atmosphere in the waiting room had a cool finality to it; the natural light flooding in through the floor length windows was grey and constant. There was a bustle at one end. Thor was pretty sure somebody’d been stabbed.

Thor walked straight towards Loki, who noticed and reacted to him faster than Thor would’ve liked. Loki’s face tended to close up when he was conscious of others’ attention on him.

It closed up even tighter when, standing to meet him, Loki first saw the cast clamped around Thor’s left wrist. He set his jaw and nodded slightly, guilt returning to his demeanor.

‘It’s not so bad,’ Thor explained as he filled out insurance forms at the front desk.

‘I’m right-handed. And it gives me an excuse to skip training for a while. Also…,’ he nodded at the receptionist as they walked away, ‘I think they bought my… y’know… bus story.’

Loki had been acting fairly impassive since Thor had returned, but at this, he hesitated to flash Thor his trademark smirk, cocked eyebrow included. He didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t have to. Thor knew exactly what Loki’s opinion of his little tale was.

Thor just grinned and rolled his eyes, embarrassed. ‘OK, OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

 

Loki had taken the liberty of parking the corvette in the most far-removed and unobtrusive place he could find within the hospital parking lot. This was great, Thor thought, in terms of his being protective of the car, but not so great when the hike to it was probably longer than the drive home would be.

Loki occupied him with hesitant inquiries about what the doctor had said (‘hairline fracture, mild concussion, no, don’t bother your GP about it’) as he navigated them both to the back of the basement floor.  When they reached the convertible Thor saw that Loki must’ve returned to it at one point to raise the roof, but seeing as it was getting cold again, they didn’t bother with the hassle of forcing it down for the journey.

The pair slid into the car in unison and Loki put it in gear immediately.

‘So,’ they both said at the same time. Thor raised his eyebrows and tried not to grin again. ‘I,’ they both said. ‘You-‘

Exasperated, Loki took a deep breath and put up his hand. ‘I’m going to drive you home.’ Thor kept his mouth shut. Loki made sure no one was headed their way and began to pull out. ‘Regrettably,’ he continued, ‘this model didn’t come with a satnav built in, so we’ll have to use my phone. If you could be so kind-‘

‘I actually know how to get back to my place from here,’ Thor explained. ‘Medic friends and all that. The hospital’s University run.’ Loki nodded.

‘Anyways, Loki. Thanks for the offer, but are you going to be alright, getting back on your own? I don’t live in halls. I mean, I’m in USA, and I do live right next to the halls. But do you know that area? Can you get home from there? Which college are you in, by the way?’

‘I’ll be fine on my own. I can walk to the Synagogue from the USA halls. I left my bike there earlier, so I need to pick it up, and then I can just ride it home.’

‘OK. Thanks again, I guess.’

Loki just nodded.

There was a just barely comfortable silence in the car. Loki gazed, stalwart, at the road ahead, while Thor drummed his good fingers on his thigh. He picked at the drying cast. Then he glanced at the volume dial on the radio.

‘You don’t mind, if I-‘ Thor gestured at the knob.

Loki shook his head, not shifting his gaze. He looked almost determined to not engage in conversation. ‘Go ahead.’

 

Thor saw to it that they made small talk all the way home.

Loki seemed a lot more somber now than before.  Still a little on edge, and more than a bit morose. Perhaps the mellowness was a good thing. All the nervous energy was gone from him, at least.

Thor himself was running out of steam. He just wanted to get home.

On the other hand, it couldn’t be denied that Loki was a good conversationalist no matter what mood he was in. It was surprising, really, that for someone who was so unobtrusively quiet most of the time, he actually had so many quips on hand.

They discussed the new term, and (obviously, this was Britain) the weather, and the fact that Loki was a grift (and, oh, what was that like? Did he have a studio apartment?). It was uncovered that Thor’s favorite album was Mothership by Led Zeppelin, but he had a good ear for new music too, and could appreciate the indie sort of stuff Loki seemed to like. Yes, Loki’d heard the CHVRCHES song that came on the radio too, Loki had their poster. No, Thor didn’t know Passion Pit. Apparently that was a shame. Either way, they both could agree that Hendrix was a god, if grudgingly on Loki’s part.

 _Thank goodness,_ Thor thought.

Loki parked the car swiftly, more used to maneuvering it by now, and handed Thor the keys as they walked together towards the foyer of his apartment building. Once he was in, Thor turned to face Loki over the threshold, mustering up the courage to say what he wanted to say next. Loki, similarly, looked like he was stumbling to choose the right words.

Loki just ended up trying to apologize again.

‘Forget about it,’ Thor told him. ‘Honestly, Loki, just… forget it. Look.’ He paused. ‘Um…’

Thor covered his eyes with his right hand and sighed in frustration, then pulled it away to gesture outwards in an almost placating motion as he spoke. ‘I don’t… obviously the _last_ thing I want to do is pressure you, but, the thing is… it’s been a long day, and, I mean it’s the evening now, you wasted your whole day, and in my flat I have all this food… and it’s going to go off, and, um, my roommates, they’re out of town on this… anyways, it doesn’t matter. But, well, heh, if you really want to make things up to me…’ he glanced up at Loki, who was staring right at him, completely unamused by the lame attempt at humor. Loki looked as if he absolutely couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Thor just decided to finish it off and stop embarrassing himself. ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘you would consider coming upstairs for a bit? Having a bite to eat, and a rest, and letting me pay you back?’

 

Loki took a very long time to respond.

Thor certainly had a lot of nerve to him. Loki couldn’t believe he was asking something like this after what had literally just happened.

Loki also couldn’t remember the last time he had willingly acquiesced to an invitation to enter another person’s living space. And even then he would have done it armed in some way, physically or psychologically, and for some sort of business purpose. Never… social.

On the other hand, Loki did owe Thor, a lot. And Thor seemed to be acting genuinely, and out of kindness.

The thing was, as stupid as it may be given his previous irrational fear of him, Loki really did trust Thor. Relative to everyone else in his life, at least.

And he was tired of being alone all the time. In class, at home. He deserved a change.

Call it a leap of faith.

Thor was blushing deeply now, and he dipped his head, guilty. ‘I’m sorry. That was… incredibly bullheaded of me. I’ll just… I’ll just go. Goodnight, Loki.’

‘Wait,’ Loki said, his voice catching Thor as he turned. He looked to the side. ‘Something to eat sounds good. Just a bite.’

Thor’s handsome face, so rarely schooled into expressionlessness, lit up again, in that all-encompassing beam. He stepped aside to allow Loki into the building and guided them through towards the elevator. After he’d manually opened the lift door, Thor took Loki’s coat.

It was Thor’s anyways.

 

Thor’s apartment was lovely but sloppy. Warmly lit, crammed full of odds and ends, but not claustrophobic. Loki could have predicted all this, though. Thor was obviously not one for neatness, and it was apparent immediately that his roommates were all of a similarly untidy disposition. Through the kitchen door he could see timetables and schemes pinned to walls and the fridge door that indicated some attempt at routine, but obviously, whatever they had to say was generally ignored.

The apartment was large (which made sense, given that it had so many occupants), and it sported the energetic lived-in feel that Loki had always failed to achieve in his own flat. Probably because he was trying too hard. The front hall extended all the way to the bedrooms at the back, with a broken shoe rack and walk-in coat cupboard where Loki left his things. From the entrance, the first room to the right was the kitchen; after that came a toilet, and on the left there was a very large living space which lead through to a dining room at the back.

As he picked his way through the clutter on the floor to follow Thor, who was trying to motion him into the kitchen and deal with some of the mess at the same time, Loki tried to remember the names of Thor’s friends.

‘Do you flatshare with Anthony Stark?’ he asked, leafing through some schematics that’d been left carelessly on a countertop. Stark was famous in the engineering department for his mechanical ingenuity, among other things. Doubtless he’d one day follow his mogul father into the weapons industry.

‘Yep,’ said Thor, who had his nose in a crockery cupboard. ‘And Steve Rogers. Clint and Tash – sorry, that’s Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff – they don’t actually live here but they’re always around. Oh, and of course there’s Bruce Banner, he’s Tony’s friend and a bit of a recluse. Maybe you know him, he’s a scientist too. Medicine, I think.’

‘Medical physics, actually,’ Loki corrected, but he wasn’t really paying attention any more. He’d become distracted by the assortment of rich aperitifs, tarts and pastries scattered around the room’s available horizontal surfaces. Thor hadn’t been kidding when he said he had food to spare. Someone must’ve thrown a very expensive party and overestimated the catering requirements. That had to be it, actually – there were three mostly empty tequila bottles in the trash, and there’d been more booze out in the hall.

Thor hummed in thought and handed Loki a plate and cutlery, turning back to the fridge. ‘Help yourself,’ he said. ‘Drink?’

Loki stiffened and eyed the fridge’s beer rack. He didn’t drink. He never had. He didn’t like the vulnerability that he knew came with it, or the way alcohol could make certain people behave. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure whether he was socially obligated to accept. Sitting around drinking beer to pass the time seemed to be something of a tradition for male college students. ‘I prefer water,’ he commented, hesitantly.

Thor must’ve noticed Loki’s reaction because he tactically replaced the bottle he’d picked up for himself and filled up two glasses at the tap. Then he made himself comfortable at the small table that fed into the countertop and munched on a pain au chocolat, eyeing Loki as he skulked his way around the room like an inquisitive cat.

Loki found it very difficult to just take food from a stranger. Well, almost stranger. Despite Thor’s reassurance, he felt as if he was abusing some serious boundaries, even through his presence in Thor’s home. He certainly wouldn’t have invited Thor back to his place, or let him take his food.

In the end Loki resolved to have a bit of everything that’d already been partially eaten, eager to try it all but not wanting to start a new dish.

He wondered out loud if Thor wouldn’t mind him having a macaroon.

‘Honestly, Loki, help yourself. It’s not even mine, it’s all Tony’s, and he’s… well, he’s loaded. He probably doesn’t even remember it’s here.’

Loki nodded.

‘By the way,’ Thor continued, completely out of the blue, ‘what do you think of that car? The Chevy, I mean.’

Loki looked up in surprise. Then he finally started to eat, opting to lean against the countertop instead of sitting next to Thor. Thor spun on his bar stool to face him, mimicking him by holding his plate (which was really just a stolen saucer) above his lap.

Loki chewed on a bit of quiche as he considered the question.

He didn’t know if Thor wanted to be reassured that his cool old car was indeed cool, and old, or if he wanted the real answer. It smarted a bit that Thor, who was probably completely oblivious of what he had, was fishing for compliments from Loki, who’d actually spent the last 5 months of his life trying to negotiate with a shitty vendor who wouldn’t get back to him over a 67 Chevrolet corvette just like Thor’s.

The thing was that the car had been almost criminally neglected. It was _abuse_. Almost every internal component had at one point been torn out and replaced with something newer and cheaper; Loki had been able to tell almost the moment he’d sat behind the wheel. Practically the only part that was still original was the framework, and it was such a shame, because, in Loki’s opinion, the quality of those cars had gone downhill from the release of the new model in 1968. If only it had been allowed to stay as perfect as it’d originally been. But still… oh, the things Loki could do with that car. Maybe if he undersold it drastically enough he could convince Thor to let him work on it.

But that was implausible and improbable. Besides, Thor didn’t deserve to be manipulated by Loki, after what he, Thor, had done for him. Thor’s car was Thor’s car, and Loki wouldn’t interfere.

‘It’s a lovely model,’ Loki commented in the end, staying neutral. ‘But it’s… it’s not the original engine, you know.’

Thor laughed out loud. ‘You can say it, Loki. It’s a piece of shit.’

Loki was taken by surprise. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say…’

Thor just raised an eyebrow at him. Loki glanced to the side, nervously scratched his ear and shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed eventually, smiling slightly. ‘It sort of is.’

Thor put his saucer away and folded his arms. ‘It was my old man’s, you see. God knows what he did with it. Anyways, the thing is, it’s not worth much to me. Or, as I should put it, it’d be better looked after in someone else’s hands. The car _is_ important to me, but… if it were in the hands of someone who was really dedicated, and who really cared, don’t you think? I think some really great things could be done with that car. I just wouldn’t know the place to start.’

 _Don’t say anything_ , Loki thought, stuffing his mouth full. _Don’t you say a single thing. You’ve given Thor absolutely no reason to trust you. You don’t know him. He doesn’t want to let you have that car. He obviously already has plans for it. So just be quiet._

‘So,’ Thor continued, smiling, ‘I’ve been trying to sell it.’

Loki had to physically bite his lip to keep himself from saying anything.

Thor grinned. ‘To you.’

Loki choked on his quiche.

It took him a few moments to process what he’d just heard. He put down his plate and leaned forward, shocked. ‘What?' 

Was this a joke?

‘For a few months now,’ Thor finished. Then he leaned back with a shit-eating grin on his face.

 _Oh my God_ , Loki thought.

_Oh my God. The- the thing with the bus. Thor wanting to see me earlier today. All this time…_

All this time. Thor had been trying to sell Loki his fucking car.

Loki couldn’t believe it. He had to be the biggest moron on the face of the Earth.

He was still leaning forward, mouth open like an idiot.

‘But,’ he eventually stuttered, ‘but… but how-‘

‘Freya told me. Wait, back up. That sounds weird. She’s a family friend, you see. And when I asked if she knew anyone… trustworthy… looking for a mistreated 67 ‘vette at a really low price, she said you’d been moving heaven and earth trying to find one, at a low price, for God knows how long, and I thought, “oh, that guy’s in my lit class! It must be fate.”’

‘And then… and then you tried to ask me, and I…’

Loki felt a deep coldness settle upon him. He shook his head. He couldn’t even meet Thor’s eyes. ‘God, Thor, I’m so sorry.’

‘Loki. Seriously. Forget it. It’s done.’

They both paused for a bit. Thor decided to take the opportunity to shovel more food into his mouth before talking again. ‘Well, anyways, there you have it. It’s not an L88, but-‘

‘Christ alive! Thor! Do you know _anything_ about cars? Of _course_ it’s not- I- I’d have to be a millionaire!’ Loki flung out his hands in exasperation.

Thor just grinned again. ‘Well, are you interested?’ he asked.

Loki couldn’t believe that someone so painfully oblivious to the situation he was dealing with could go into it this casually. Thor seemed completely unperturbed about the whole thing. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself at Loki’s expense. As if it was Loki who ought be embarrassed in these circumstances.

Loki scowled at Thor, then angrily helped himself to more pastry. He chewed in silence for a while, trying to make sense of the situation.

Then he thought, _oh, what the hell_.

Loki swallowed. ‘What’s your asking price?’

‘…12?’

Loki just kept staring.

He couldn’t believe it. He literally couldn’t believe his ears. Thor was insane. He had to be. That concussion was more serious than they’d thought.

Loki shook his head, numbly. 

‘But, listen. I know what you’re thinking,’ Thor said. ‘But I’m not. I’m not crazy. The money… the money’s just to pay back my father.’ Oh, so Thor’s father wasn’t actually dead. That saved Loki from what would’ve been some pretty awkward condolences.

Thor continued. ‘If I could, I’d give it to you for free. I love that car, I really do. And Freya’s shown me what you’ve done, at the shop.

‘As cheesy as it sounds, I just want to see that car reach its potential. It’s been in the family for years. It has sentimental value. But it’s just been rotting away. And it’s not worth it to me to invest so much into it, to renovate it. But there are people… like you… who I know are willing to put in the effort, and have the time and resources to do it. So, yeah. If you like that price - and you wouldn’t mind me maybe coming down to see how things are going, and, I don’t know, taking pictures, maybe lovingly caressing the varnish or whatever – I can have it up in the garage by next weekend.’ 

 

Well.

Loki didn’t agree immediately. They argued quietly for a while as the streets outside got darker, laying out parameters and double, triple checking things (this was mostly Loki), but eventually, Loki said that yes, please, he would like to buy Thor’s car.

There were a few cons to the decision. Freya’s was a safe haven to Loki. He’d have to accept Thor coming in to his personal space, and that unsettled him deeply. Thor, though, was very cautious and respectful about it all. He was obviously making a conscious effort not to be obnoxious towards Loki, having learned through trial and error what that would result in.

And in the end, the decision was worth it.

Afterwards, Loki finished his snack, which had by now turned into dinner, and insisted that he really must be off. They exchanged numbers (well, Thor got one of Loki’s several numbers). At the door, Thor confessed that Freya had invited him to come up and watch a race next weekend, and that he’d love to come but apparently Loki was competing and so he wouldn’t if Loki didn’t want him to. Loki considered it for a while, but said it would actually be alright. He even suggested that they drive to Vanir motors together in Thor’s car that weekend, as Thor wouldn’t be able to get there himself, it was an hour out of town, and the racetrack was nearby.

Loki was feeling amiable.

Well, it was his fault that Thor would have the time to spare that weekend anyways.

Then Thor invited Loki to a party. Loki declined politely but immediately. ‘I thought those things were only for people in USA,’ he pointed out as an afterthought.

‘They are,’ Thor replied. ‘But they let you smuggle in friends.’

‘Right,’ Loki nodded, and then he bid Thor good night.

 

When Loki got home, he shut the door to his flat and leaned his whole body against it. Despite himself, he started to smile. He felt calm and flushed at the same time; it was peculiar. He just couldn’t get Thor’s passing remark out of his mind. _They let you smuggle in friends._

Now that he was alone in his flat, Loki could forget about the disastrous day he’d had, and all the niggling little things he had to take care of. He forgot about everything at all. Instead, he plugged his iPod into the sound system, turned it all the way up, and danced through every room in the empty apartment, not caring who saw or heard, watering his plants as he went. 

 _I have a car_ , Loki thought. _I have_ the _car._

_And, apparently, I have a friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Loki has in common with his CHVRCHES poster the fact that they were both illustrated by Jamie McKelvie. You're welcome.
> 
> As always, please leave a review! They fuel me. Just like terrible decisions fuel this plot. And thank you so, so much to the people who are giving me constant feedback. Tell me your address and I'll show up at your house in the middle of the night to serenade you and throw flowers. It'll be fun.
> 
> Ivy


	6. January, 2014 III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to everyone who follows/helps/interacts in any way with this story! You're the light of my life :)

‘That’s not what I said. I never said that.‘

‘A _friend_ , Loki! Your very first! _Finally_ I can arrange a _playdate_ for you.’

‘I said he told _me-_ ‘

‘I’m so excited. I’m so happy. I need to meet his parents before you visit his house, though.’

‘Listen, he’s a, he’s a _peer_. I have plenty of friends, but-‘

‘Oh? This is new. Last time-’

‘-Thor is someone my _own_ age, who, shut up, who I can, can share notes and things with. And I can network! He’s popular, you know, he has friends, maybe I can-‘

‘OK, OK. I’m sorry. I can be serious. One quick question though. Would you describe yourself as fun and quirky, or more the kind and quiet type? For your OkCupid profile, which I'm setting up right now. And then it's going to be facebook, speaking of networking. Welcome to the social sphere.'

Loki closed his eyes as if to send out a silent prayer for strength. What made is worse was that it was actually something she would do to pass the time. 

Stopped at a red light and with his cellphone clamped between his cheek and the inside of his helmet, he could flex both palms around the handlebars in front of him, taking out his frustration through his grip on the bike instead of by groaning out loud.

'You're not making me an OkCupid profile.'

'I really am. I've dedicated myself to it entirely,' said Angie. 'You want to make a bet?'

'Oh! Seriously?' Loki grinned as he took off again, though no one could see it. He turned his head as if to look at the person sitting next to him. 'You want to make a bet with _me_? Honestly?'

'Absolutely, because, as you know, I am always nothing but sincere. I'll bet you-'

'That worthless porcelain fairy your receptionist gave last November?’ There was no reply. 'Thats was what you were going to say, wasn't it? Shame on you, trying to fob off a heartfelt gift like that.' Loki practically purred with contentment. ‘ _So_ predictable, Angie. Done. Now. I could do some serious elaboration here, but the crux of it is: you're on your phone, talking to me using the microphone on your headphones in favour of speaking into the phone directly. A five year old could tell the difference between the sound quality. The reason that you're on your phone, using the screen, but not using a computer is that you're actually playing Candy Crush Saga, because the eloquence and skills your sophisticated, sheltered upbringing gave you came at the cost of a lifestyle too oppressive for a child.'

'Oho, Mr Psychoanalysis! Such venom! You’re down two stars in my patient of the month stakes.’

‘But up one fairy figurine,’ Loki countered, logically. ‘I’ll take it as a win. And... you know, I’m not your patient any more.’

Angie didn’t reply for a while, and when she did, it was with a surprising sincerity. Although it didn’t last long. ‘I know. Sorry. I do consider myself to be your friend, Loki. Well, I guess that'd be your _other_ friend now.’ 

‘Shut up.'

‘Honestly though, I realize this Thor thing’s been troubling you, and it’s great you two reconciled, but… I know that’s not why you called me. What’s making you so nervous?’

Loki blinked and stared out at the road ahead of him. he hadn’t been expecting that. He knew Angrboda was astute, but… was he making it that obvious?

Then again, it was only fair that if her took her on in his own field, he should expect her to do the same to him, and with a similar ease.

He didn’t know what to say to make her change the topic again. And a small part of him also wanted to confide in her.

He _was_ nervous.

Things would have been bad enough if it had only been the case that today was his first actual race, in a car he had little experience in. But there was something else. Two things, in fact.

The first was that it’d emerged that Thor didn’t at all realize what he’d signed up for today. Loki’d assumed that Freya had already taken care of that, but no, apparently it had slipped her mind somehow. So Loki was going to have to do some serious explaining in a few minutes.

The second thing was this:

He’d slept better last week than he had in living memory, despite his anxiety about the race. In fact, Loki had spent almost the entire week dreaming about flying. But on Thursday night, old habits had had him trawling through ownership records and forum interactions and local news sights and he’d found something that made his stomach flip – exactly what he’d been looking for.

It wouldn’t have been hard for him either way, but there’d been no attempt to conceal it, so it caught his attention almost immediately.

Today’s other driver was a man called Michael Howard, and it’d become apparent to Loki that he had connections with a reasonably wealthy ex-banker called Letitia Lane. Further investigation revealed that Howard was, as Loki’d suspected, a relative of Lane’s – her nephew in law – and therefore most likely on the elder woman’s payroll.

All of this would be of no consequence whatsoever. Was Loki not going to be sitting in a few hours behind the wheel of Letitia Lane’s 2008 Nissan 370Z.

The pair’s objective wasn’t so complex. Rookie driver, plus a mediocre car, meant higher chances for Howard. They’d obviously surmised that Loki hadn’t a chance, which was probably more or less accurate, and hoped to get nothing more out of the interaction than to win what'd been payed for the renovation back in prize money. This is what Freya had said, and Loki agreed. It didn’t actually change anything for him at all, but it certainly wasn’t reassuring to know how convinced they were of his incompetence.

Loki had enough faith in himself, though, that he wouldn’t let it phase him. After all, if anyone could find the silver lining in a horrid situation, it was him. _So they’re kicking back and waiting to watch you fail? Let their false confidence be their hubris_.

But Loki’d gone back to the track yet again on Friday, considering the surface quality and the Nissan’s terrible tire roar, which they’d done all they could to minimize by altering the car’s suspension. He thought about how it handled and how Howard’s car handled in comparison (better), and about every single thing that could go wrong on Saturday. Even in class he made notes on how the going would be affected by weather condition. He couldn’t help himself.

He was hideously nervous.

‘Loki?’ Angie was asking him. ‘That was a big pause. Are you with me?’

Loki blinked and shook his head. He was drawing up outside of Thor’s apartment, right on time. He’d barely even realized he’d arrived, or that Angie was still on the line. _Oops_.

‘I’m fine,’ he muttered, ‘and I need to go. Sorry-‘

‘You’ve arrived? …Or am I just getting the cold shoulder? Where are you?’

‘Thor’s.’

Loki parked, haphazardly but out of the way, and walked onto the sidewalk. He really wanted this conversation to end. Call it a mixture of guilt and frustration.

‘… He’s quite important to you, isn’t he? Just-‘

‘Angie-‘

‘Just promise me you’re not about to do something stupid, Loki. Or illegal. Godknows I-’

‘You know I don’t do “stupid,” Angie,’ Loki said, and hung up the phone.

 

Thor was waiting for Loki on the doorstep, leaning against a pillar and twirling the Chevrolet’s keys over and under his good hand. ‘Ready to go?’ he asked.

Loki frowned and ground his teeth silently. He glanced around, tapping his forefinger on his thigh in agitation, and then sighed. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘that depends. Can you keep a secret?’

 

Loki drove Thor East into the countryside with the roof down. Every new town they drove through was washed in spring sunlight, and Thor marveled at the waves playing across the crop fields, at the fjords and the open expanses that came as suburbia fell away. It’d been so long since he’d been outside of a city, or not travelling between two of them in a train.

Today was the sort of day that just made you want to stand at the center of it for as long as you lived, basking. Forgetting everything.

Except…

Street racing.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Not that he really minded – in fact the prospect was quite exciting – but still, it wasn’t quite how he’d been expecting to spend the day. 

It wasn’t his deal. Thor had spent a lot of his childhood in and out of police stations, in fact, so now... he felt horribly out of place.

He wondered if he should even be here at all. The nervous, almost hysterical energy that'd driven the beginning of their... tentatively, Thor would call it a friendship - had fizzled out, and now they were both left in the 'we've broken the ice but I still don't really know you but I sort of want to but I don't really know how to go about it, because, you know... we don't know each other, so I don't want to impose' stage of their relationship. Thor already loved spending time with Loki, and was more than happy to get to know him more, but this whole thing had sort of thrown him off-kilter. Thor was out of his depth, and Loki was obviously too agitated thinking about the race to make much conversation, so Thor was left to stew in the passenger seat.

He tried to make the most of it and just relax.

It explained a lot, though, really, the street racing thing; Thor’d spent hours trying to figure out why he couldn’t find a single hint about today’s race online. At the time, he’d just supposed it wasn’t big enough to have any media coverage. Or information for competitors, or anything, at all. In hindsight, maybe it was all a bit obvious.

Thor was also going to go ahead and assume that Loki didn’t realize that his uncle was a cop, and he was also going to hopefully never bring it up. Ever.

He alternated between gazing over the windshield at the sky ahead, and using it to watch Loki’s reflection, so that he could see the way Loki’s slim fingers curled around the wheel. He watched his face as he focused on the road. It was calmer like that – when Loki forgot, temporarily, that he wasn’t alone - than at any other time. Unnoticed, Thor could see how Loki’s hair looked when the wind took it, and the perfect way the collar of his leather jacket curled around his neck.

Then Thor realized what he was doing, blushed and turned back to the scenery, picking at his hands. Loki hadn’t seemed to notice.

 

They stopped on the outskirts of another, smaller city that Thor’d never seen, perhaps an hour and a half out of Midgard, to pick up Freya and exchange cars at the shop.

Freya was a Hollywood beauty. She sported effortless golden tresses and, usually, absolutely filthy overalls, complete with a hick checkered button-up. Today was no exception.

Because Loki's race car had already been taken away, they piled, along with assorted snacks and machinery, into Freya’s beat up Mini Cooper. Loki was going to drive them (he needed to get in the mood, Freya said) to the race track. Or… whatever it was that street racers street raced on. A street somewhere, presumably.  _Oh my God_ , Thor thought,  _whatever you do, keep this fascinating monologue to yourself._

As they started off, he was reassured that it wouldn’t be more than another hour.

 

Gradually the road became winding, taking them up between hills and along the side of a loping valley. The methodically aligned fields gave way to forests, with trees with chapped bark that arched protectively over the one-lane road to allow only dappled patches of sunlight onto the car as it passed beneath them. The barns and towns fell away. Soon there was only the filtered light and silence, broken by Loki sucking in breath as he narrowly missed potholes. It was almost mesmerizingly peaceful.

Loki had to slow down as the quality of the surface deteriorated, careful not to damage the Mini’s underside. Thor looked out into the woods, almost completely absorbed, but he could hear by the clacking of Loki’s nails on the wheel that he was getting agitated. ‘We’re going to be late,’ Loki finally said.

‘Mm, so’s he, darling,’ said Freya. ‘And we’re almost there. Don’t worry.’

Loki banked sharply to the left, following the snaking road. Around the bend there was nothing but more forest. ‘Where are we going?’ Thor asked, curiosity finally piqued enough to tear him from the view. He leaned forward into the gap between the two front seats. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere. How can we be “nearly there”?’

Loki chose that exact moment to slam on the breaks so hard that Thor went tumbling over the gearbox, slamming his bad forearm against the dashboard.

Picking himself up, Thor swore vehemently and glanced forward. Across the road was a lazy barricade, complete with an unhelpful ‘road closed’ sign, that had come practically out of nowhere.

Loki tried to put the car into reverse, but Freya whipped her hand onto his forearm before he could reach the gearstick, not taking her eyes off of the road ahead. ‘This is us,’ she said.

Loki glanced at Freya, and then Thor. Then he drove forwards, veering up onto the verge to get around the road block. Thor waited a beat. Hm. No, they really were serious. ‘Hang on,’ he said, and then was bucked unceremoniously back into his seat as the Mini dropped back onto the road again. In the front, Loki sighed. ‘Look, Thor,’ he began apologetically, but stopped almost immediately. Because, as they completed the bend the barricade was on, two men in bright yellow tabards came into view on the side of the road.

Thor decided to keep quiet as the car drew up beside them. They’d only be turned around, he supposed.

But what happened instead was: one of the men lifted a walkie-talkie and said something into it (before the window was down, so Thor couldn’t hear it), and the other waved them on. And the car drove off.

 _Ah._ Of course. Street racing.

After they’d driven around the barrier, the terrain evened out; the section of road they drove on recently renovated. And up ahead, the forest ended. Abruptly. Thor could see through the mouth of the trees that the path was flooded in sunlight, and suddenly the sky was there again, piercingly blue.

When they came out into the open, Thor saw that they'd entered what was essentially a massive valley, miles and miles across, so expansive that there was practically no inclination towards the centre at all, punctuated with knolls and sections of forest and untilled fields. On every hazy horizon was another hill, boxing them in. But the essential part was that every building – every old barn, every lot, all of them nucleating around what was obviously an abandoned quarry – was completely empty. It was obvious that whatever business had been here however many years ago had upped and left one day, and the people had joined it.

Now, however, the place was quietly teeming with life. Shady, non governmentally sanctioned life.

They drove into the centre of it, just above the quarry. Loki and Freya spoke business through the driver's window with some official looking triplets in their late twenties and the bureaucratic stuff was taken care of. Guiding fingers were pointed, names were ticked off. There were different places for people serving different purposes, and for competitors contending at different times – apparently Loki’s race wasn’t the only one that day. The whole set-up was surprisingly methodical, Thor noted. 

He mused stonily to himself in the back of the car, slightly grumpy with the fact that he felt like even more of a dead weight now that they were actually here.

There was a hill near the starting line – or what was being passed as a starting line – where the spectators were, and after they parked, Freya guided Thor towards it before she went to join Loki in the competitors-and-crew section.

‘I bet you’re wondering what you’re doing here, sweetheart,’ she purred sympathetically to Thor when they got there.

‘I… yes,’ he admitted, surprised and also sheepish. Freya grinned wolfishly at him, and delayed her answer to snag the arm of a passing teenager laden with various drinks. She scooped up as many champagne flutes between her fingers as she could, and then turned back to Thor.

‘For moral support, you see. So you have to trot over when I holler at you later. Until then, stay here, relax, meet the team.’ She gestured towards several waving crowd members, obviously the Vanir Motors party who’d arrived earlier with Loki’s car (or, at least, those members who weren’t with Loki right now). 'They'll tell you more about what's going on, who we like... who we don't like, and who you don't even want to make _eye contact_ with,' she explained. 'And as well as all that, you can fulfill your primary duty. Hold my drink.’

So saying, she handed two of the flutes to Thor and whirled away.

 _How glamorous_ , he thought, _for someone dressed like an urchin,_ and then he berated himself for actually fitting the word ‘urchin’ into a sentence. When he turned to find the crew in the crowd, he’d already lost them. So he climbed to the top of the hill, where he could see the drivers, and waited.

Thor remembered the last time he’d seen Freya: thanksgiving. She had been, giggling and tipsy, complaining about her ditzy tendency to burn cooking, and apologizing on behalf of her hideously boring accountant brother, who was tied up with his job in America and so couldn’t make it. In short, she’d been a completely different person.

Now, Thor was sitting by himself, champagne(s) in hand, watching various people congregate around the starting line, Freya one of them. He wondered if Freyr was secretly a Formula One driver, or maybe a masked justice vigilante who scoured alleyways in the dead of night, hunting evildoers.

Thor narrowed his eyes at Freya, mentally willing her to give him something to do. Loki seemed preoccupied, and had done the whole day, understandably – and so Freya was his only bet, but she hadn’t even glanced in his direction, so he picked at the rim of his plastic glass and let his eyes roam the congregation instead.

More men and women in black shirts were walking around taking bets indiscretely on the hill, whilst offering beer, champagne and snacks. And of the several hundred people he’d seen so far today, maybe 40 were absolutely dripping with technical equipment, walking to and from a stand set up around a camper van, which was covered in jumbled wires, laptops, satellite dishes, and – well, Thor was no bank robber, but he’d seen enough action films to know what a police radio scanner looked like.

On the hill, there were several people for whom it was obvious to him that this was merely a day out, a chance to picnic in the midst of what was obviously one of the worst kept secrets in… Berkshire, was it? Those who didn’t fit into that category and weren’t officiating in some way either were representing one of the parties racing, or intended to place bets. That was obviously how this whole arrangement made a profit. Some of them were oddly well-dressed; suited and turning up their noses at scruffier crowd members. Others looked like they might be Hell's Angels on a day off. Thor remembered Freya's comment about eye contact, and for the first time wondered if she might not have been joking.

Beside the hill there were tents and lorries, for betting and for food, he supposed. All of the action nucleated around the starting line, but it sprawled out, too, in every direction, up and down the quarry. Further off there were still people walking around hurriedly, meeting contacts, slipping into the backs of vans, using the day as an opportunity to do other business. The place almost felt like a literal black market.

Directly on the other side of the start line, falling into the quarry, was the competitors’ section. Cars lined gravel pits, crews huddled around themselves, and massive semis trailed in from the east, bringing more people, more cars.

Thor was in the middle of wondering, for maybe the 28th time, how it could be that  _no one_ knew about any of this, when he caught Freya in his peripheral vision, down on the track (which was really, as he'd predicted, just a wide, unmarked road).

She had her hand on her hip, and she was beckoning him.  ~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Loki is better at making bets in this universe. Thank God(s).
> 
> I'm sorry this has taken so long. Also, if there's anything you'd really like to see Thor/Loki do, then please tell me that too, because I feel like there's a lot of filler coming up so I'm sure I can fit it in somewhere. Maybe.
> 
> And, as always, your feedback is very much appreciated (Even corrections to typos. /Especially/ corrections to typos)


	7. January, 2014 IV

Thor perked his head up and practically tripped over himself trying to skirt down the hill. He edged around assorted audience members, then got to the top of one of the small stands that’d been set up and ran down the benches, two at a time, taking care not to spill the drinks.

Freya was standing, completely unperturbed, in the middle of a swarm of assorted vehicles; rally cars, off-road cars, some bog-standard sports cars and some bikes, all going nowhere fast. Since they’d arrived, two sets of around 10 cars had taken off from the starting line (finishing, obviously, somewhere else). There was a constant sound of tires on track, and engines, reverberating around the valley, and nearby, people were driving into and around a sort of collecting ring off to the side. But Freya looked as comfortable as if she were in her own living room.

When he finally reached her, she was grinning at him with her hands on her hips, looking as if she were trying not to double over laughing. He saw now that she’d changed slightly, and had her hair in a scruffy bun, with a cap and matching jacket sporting the ‘Vanir Motors’ logo.

Loki was nowhere to be seen.

‘Your drink,’ Thor offered, winded, and then made himself busy trying not to look as afraid as he was of ending up as roadkill. Freya waved the champagne away immediately and took his hand, dragging him across the road to one of the paths that lead down to the quarry.

On the other side, safely out of the way, they could see almost all of the activity in the competitors’ section below them. Freya looked around, thoughtful, and then indicated one of the fairly glitzy looking lorries that had just pulled in. It was lowering its ramp.

As Thor watched, a car was reversed straight out of the back of the lorry, shooting over the ramp and slamming ungracefully into the ground. The few men who’d been buzzing around it jumped back, obviously startled, and then stood around uselessly as the driver carried on, backwards, at quite a pace, all the way up the hill towards Thor and Freya. It looked to Thor like a normal, if slightly bulky, sports car, but it came at them so quickly that he had to resist the urge to jump back. The car backed directly onto the main road, narrowly missed some pedestrians, and then gave a colossal screech as it spun around to end up at the starting line facing the right direction.

‘What an asshole,’ Freya commented, deadpan, taking the words right out of Thor’s mouth.

Then she turned to him, and her charming grin was back. ‘Right. Come with me.’

Thor was really more interested in knowing what exactly Freya was trying to achieve by all this, but he followed without a word.

She dragged them a few feet away, so that there was a group of chatting staff in between them and the stands across the road. She bobbed her head around until she could find what she was looking for through their cover, and then pulled Thor closer to her so he could see what, or rather, who, she was gesturing at.

She smelled of engine oil and vanilla.

‘For context,’ Freya whispered, probably making herself more noticeable rather than less by doing so, ‘do you see that lady?' 

Thor did; he told her so. An older woman, standing at the base of the hill with some of the more dull looking viewers. She was trying and failing miserably to pretend she was absorbed with something on her phone. She kept glancing over at the driver of the orange car that’d backed up the hill, who was now gesticulating obnoxiously to a group of his friends, laughing and slapping his car at intervals.

‘All right,’ Freya continued, facing him now. ‘Long story short: she’s the one who owns Loki’s car. It’s been in the shop all winter. But this guy, our only opponent, by the way, there’re only two cars, is on her payroll. So she’s going to bet against us, because this is Loki’s first race, so technically he hasn’t a chance.’

His _first_? That was new. Thor whipped his head around to make a comment, but was quickly interrupted. ‘He’s doing a warm up lap but he’ll be back any second now. The timer above the stands, you probably saw it earlier, is our countdown. We’ve only got a few minutes. When he gets here I’m going to check on the car one last time with the crew, and then talk to Letitia quickly, so I won’t have much time with Loki before they go. Howard, however, because he’s a predictable piece of shit, is going to try and psych Loki out. And Loki, because, although I love him, he is a _guy_ , is going to bite the hook. So I need you- I need you to distract them. Got that?' 

‘Er.’ Thor wanted to ask what exactly it was that she wanted him to _do_ , but, before he had the chance, Freya had ducked through the group in front of them and jogged over to meet Loki, who, sure enough, had just come around a corner towards the start. As soon as he’d stopped, he jumped out of the driver’s door, unsubtly avoiding Freya, and strode confidently towards Howards, or Howard or whatever. _Idiot_ , Thor thought.

Howard apparently thought so too, because he broke into an extremely unattractive grin as he greeted Loki. 

Thor glanced around uncertainly, looking for inspiration. If there was one thing worse than a clueless kid trying squeakily to demand respect from someone like Howard (who, by the looks at him, hadn’t paid for his lunch _once_ in high school), it was _two_ kids doing it.

He didn’t have much time. The starting line was being cleared of vehicles and officials, other than those involved in the race, and Loki and his opponent’s names and basic information were being announced over the speaker system.

Freya turned suddenly from the car and walked back towards the woman, Letitia, who was smiling wanly at her. As she passed Thor, Freya flapped her hand at him very agitatedly, pulling a face.

Thor made an executive decision.

He hopped from one foot to the other, groaned out loud and then snatched up an oversized black windbreaker that’d been draped over a folding chair. Throwing his own jean jacket aside, Thor donned the stolen one, and ran across the road to Loki, zipping it up as he went.

When Thor arrived, Loki was being patronized horribly. Howard and his lackeys were practically _sneering_ at him, insulting everything from his car to his accent with moderate and polite voices, and although Loki was holding his own, outwardly calm, he was tapping his fingers against his clasped knuckles behind his back, obviously agitated.

As Thor drew up, Loki turned to face him, mouth open in greeting, and then saw what he’d done and cleverly shut up.

Loki pursed his lips and glared knives at Thor, trying as hard as he could to shoo him away without actually saying anything, but Thor, grimacing internally, ignored him entirely.

‘Loki Liesmith?’ he asked, addressing Howard.

Howard snorted at him.

‘I don’t think so, buddy,’ he said. ‘Can I help you? We’re sort of in the middle of something here.’ He nodded at Loki, who had turned around again, face calculatedly blank.

‘Oh!’ Thor exclaimed, feigning surprise, and gave an apologetic head-bow. ‘I’m so sorry. Excuse me. It’s just that it’s usually the rookies who showboat like that!’ He gave a little laugh, and then stopped himself as if he’d just realized what he’d said.

Howard, having now been insulted as well as interrupted in his tirade, looked as if he might internally combust. Before he could comment, though, Thor cut him off with another stuttered apology and turned to Loki. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt. Really. But your crew is asking after you. There might be a problem with the car.’

Loki raised his eyebrows in concern and nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said, and then wished Howard, who was still fuming, good luck. As Loki turned to go, Thor caught his shoulder. ‘Also,’ he said, wondering as he did so exactly _what_ he was thinking, ‘we want to know if you want to place a bet.’

‘I already have,’ said Loki, smoothly but with unconcealed warning in his voice.

‘Of course. But we thought you might want to raise it. With the odds as they are, you – well, I don’t want to be frank, but you might as well have not bothered, you see. So we were quite surprised, and wondered if there’d been a mistake.’

Loki regarded him steadily. ‘Thank you, but that’s quite alright,’ he said. ‘Is that all?’

‘Hang on, kid’ said Howard, finally finding his voice. He jabbed a finger at Loki. ‘You do know that _he’s_ Liesmith, and _I’m_ Michael Howard.’

‘Of course,’ said Thor, and apologized _one_ last time. ‘If you’ll please excuse me, sir, I should explain the problem…’ he pointed at Loki, who was turning to go, and then jogged to catch up with him without waiting to be excused.

‘I’m _so sorry_ ,’ Thor hissed out of the corner of his mouth. ‘That was- if he realizes, I mean… I shouldn’t’ve…’

‘It’s quite alright,’ Loki grinned, facing forwards as they walked. He lit a cigarette. ‘Quite frankly I think it was worth it, just to see the look on his face.’

Thor tried not to beam. That short sentence had somehow made his entire morning of feeling like a fish out of water completely worth it. Besides, who cared if Howard found out who he really was? It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes anyways. As it was, he’d spend the time slightly baffled either way.

When they reached the car, Freya was there, looking very inquisitively at the two of them. ‘I take it there’s not actually a problem with the car?’ Loki asked, effectively preventing her queries.

‘No…’ Freya gave them one last curious glance, and then quickly addressed Loki. ‘Know the course? All ready?’ she asked.

‘As I’ll ever be.' 

‘Right.’ She shooed away the crew. ‘Now, Loki, look at me. Pep talk time.’

‘I know that this’s been eating away at you for weeks. And I know how worried you are. But the thing is; the weather, the car, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Because you’re an amazing driver, and a total genius, and you were _made_ for this. And I know a large part of you’s scared. But, buddy, it’s completely pointless, because you’ve genuinely got _nothing_ to fear. So I want you to take a deep breath, promise you’ll be a gentleman no matter what happens, and then go out there and _annihilate_ him.’

So saying, she punched Loki, hard, in the upper arm. He swore viciously, looking for a second as if he might reciprocate, and then growled lowly at her. ‘ _Thank_ you,’ he muttered. ‘ _So_ helpful.' 

‘Any time.’ Freya grinned charismatically. ‘You’ve got 55 seconds.’

She backed away.

Loki stood outside of the driver’s door while he finished his cigarette, and there was a tense lull in the day’s rushed activity as he looked at Thor, who was now the only one still waiting by the car. Thor broke the silence by saying the first thing that came into his head.

‘Kiss my cast for good luck?’

Loki groaned out loud and rolled his eyes, leaning back against the car. ‘Dream _on_ , Odinson,’ he said. He pushed himself forward and swung open his door.

Loki rolled his way into the seat, simultaneously throwing the remains of his cigarette on the ground. He slammed the door shut so he could smirk at Thor from behind the glass.

Thor grinned and dipped his head in mock dejection, bowing out of Loki’s picture so he could focus as the timer reached the single digits. Freya caught him and led him back to the sidelines, where the crew was. Well, there were really only two of them right now. Freya tried to introduce them -  he caught that the girl was called Annie - but Thor couldn’t tear his eyes from the cars.

Their engines revved deafeningly as the timer blinked down. Flag guy got himself ready.

Four seconds. Three. Two.

In the time between ‘1’ and ‘0’, Thor felt within himself as if a precipice had been reached. No one else seemed too bothered at that moment. Freya was relaxed by his side. The crew was chatting hushedly. But Thor was, he realized, terrified.

Loki just stared out at the open road.

And then it was over. The flag was waved, and the cars were around the corner barely before Thor could blink.

That was it.

They were gone. _Extroardinarily_ fast, for street legal sports cars.

Thor just stood still for a while, temporarily stunned, and feeling extremely deflated. Then Freya patted his back. ‘Come on,’ she shouted, excitedly, ‘we can see them finish over the hill.’

Thor snapped back to reality and nodded, running to get his denim jacket back before sprinting after the other three. He dodged waiters and hurdled an entire picnic spread, suddenly terrified that he might miss the finish. How could Loki sit there and look so _calm_ , he wondered, when he himself felt sick to his stomach? Thor was positively strumming with the nervous excitement that he recognized so easily from his own matches. He could tell, when he reached the top of the hill and saw Freya clutching both of her employees as if they might fly away, that she felt the same.

Breathless, he jogged down to meet them. They were still at a higher elevation than the track, which finished only a few hundred meters from the start, right by a woods, stretching out like a runway into the sunlight. He could see the last few bends in the road, and the final stretch down to the finish line. And he could _hear –_ still distant, but getting close – Loki and Howard’s engines as the cars tore across the valley. ‘How fast is the circuit?’ he asked hurriedly.

It was the Annie who answered him. ‘Only a few minutes. They’ll come around the corner any second.’

Thor nodded and turned back to first bend the cars would come around. _Come on, Loki_ , he thought, and crossed his fingers like he hadn’t in years, shaking his hands impatiently. _Come on, come on._

Seeing a car race in person was nothing like when Thor had watched them on TV – the heat and tension in the atmosphere, the smell throughout the complex of burnt rubber, and the sheer _noise_ , were all absolutely encapsulating for him. It was _addictive_.

He didn’t realize he was wishing out loud until Annie shushed him, smirking. He apologized and waited, silently, trying to keep still, eyes on the crucial bend in the road.

He didn’t have to wait long.

When the cars appeared, the man on Freya’s other side smacked his thigh and swore. Freya didn’t say anything, and kept her gaze fixedly on the cars – Howard was in the lead. 

Thor knew from the races on TV how agonizing it could be for a driver to be trapped behind a car, spending crucial time looking for an opening, and when the chance _finally_ came to overtake, it was usually drawn out for ages as both cars progressed along the track. In the few times Thor’d seen this, he’d found himself itching with agitation just watching. 

He didn’t know if it was because it was real this time, or because the cars were still so far away, but Loki did not look like this.

He was making the pursuit look like a game of cat and mouse. Howard was swerving jerkily, losing momentum, obviously phased by Loki’s proximity, and on every bend, at every gap Howard left in the road, Loki was there, teasing his way ahead.

Howard’s larger car was actually more suited to aggressive moves like Loki’s, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Loki couldn’t be shouldered out of the way. When Howard followed a curve on the inside to the left, Loki was on his outside, matching his angular speed despite the extra coverage. When Howard allowed himself to drift out, Loki was suddenly on his left, as if completely on accident. Howard was completely aware of the game being played with him, and that Loki was simply waiting for him to mess up, to take a turn too quickly in his haste, and end up skidding off course, but there was nothing he could do to stop Loki. And so when they approached the final bend in the road, Howard slowed.

He was at the end. He’d almost won. Despite his snappy temperament, he wasn’t taking risks.

He hadn’t fallen for it.

But he decelerated too late. He was still slowing as he took the turn, as close to the inside as possible.

Watching it from in front, Thor wasn’t really sure when or how it happened. He just knew that all of a sudden the cars were side by side, and there was a colossal screech, and then Loki was in front, just like that.

The noise – tire roar, Thor realized - didn’t stop as Loki drew away, leaving Howard, already far too slow to catch up, trying desperately to match his speed. It didn’t stop until he was well over the finish line, cruising to a neat stop hundreds of meters down the road, to cheers from the crowd behind them. Most of them, it seemed, didn’t care who won so long as there was a good show.

And it was Loki. Who ‘hadn’t had a chance’. _Loki_ had won.

Freya gave a whoop of joy and jumped straight into the air, hugging Thor, who had shouted far too loud when Loki stopped the clocks as he streaked across the finish line. She tore away after Loki, throwing up her hands as she went. The two crew members soon followed, laughing and shaking each other, excitedly calculating their winnings, and Thor was left grinning on the slope.

Freya was right, Thor realized. It didn’t matter what car he was in, or the sun was too dazzling, or whether both his _arms_ were broken. Loki was the better driver.

Loki drove just like he walked, or wrote, or spoke – beautifully. With the same, precise, deadly grace of a knife or a viper. Thor felt as if he’d had a great honor bestowed upon him, being allowed to see Loki drive like this. It was nothing  _like_ how he’d been in the Mini.

It was nothing like anything Thor had ever seen. So enviably _easy_.

After a while, he clapped his hands once, winced in pain, and cheered again, before starting off in a slow lope towards Loki.

 

That evening Thor sat quietly by himself, and didn’t say a word.

The apartment was a total bombsite, and, of course, instead of doing anything to rectify the situation, his flatmates had decided instead to cover the fray in a thin layer of empty beer bottles and, in Tony’s case, circuit boards.

Tony himself was draped on top of a bookshelf in their living room, assorted mechanical tools supported by a pile of musty Greek dictionaries, trying to rearrange the wires falling from the back of their flatscreen in a way that’d somehow get them free Sky. Bruce had gotten up to try convince him to lay off for a while so that Thor, Steve and he could finish their horror film without the image blurring, but they’d quickly gotten into a heated discussion about their team name, and lost track of the original conversation entirely.

Thor was caught between listening to Bruce and Tony, trying to watch the film, and wondering if he could be bothered to go up and get something to drink, and had ended up doing none of those things and staring into space, thinking about Loki Liesmith.

‘but I still don’t see what’s wrong,’ Bruce was insisting, ‘with “MUAMAC”, Tony. It makes perfect sense-‘

‘And it’s _boring!_ What does it even stand for, anyways? Something something… “ _assorted martial arts”_? Really?’

‘Well, look, we’re not calling ourselves-‘

‘I’m just saying-‘

‘Steve! Back me up here, you’re the captain. Tony’s just a glorified groupie, he can’t even box.’ Tony scoffed. ‘He wants to call us the _Avengers._ ’

Steve laughed out loud. ‘Who on Earth are we avenging?’ He asked.

‘The originality of my so-called _friends_ , for one thing,’ said Tony, who was still mucking around with some electrical cables. ‘And _also-‘_

The screen gave a helpless blip and went completely black. Nobody spoke.

‘Fuck,’ said Tony, ‘that’s the fuse. Thor, buddy, could you maybe go into the hall and…?’

‘Thor?’

‘Hm?’ asked Thor, who had been staring attentively at a mysterious stain on the wall. Tony had to rephrase the question.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Right. Of course.’

He left to some odd staring. As he closed the door behind him, he could just make out Tony saying, ‘oh, don’t worry about him, he’s just depressed because he got left here all alone all day. Poor puppy.’

Thor restarted the fuse, and then went into the kitchen, where he could have some peace. He poured himself some orange juice and leaned heavily on the counter, deep in thought.

He didn’t know what to do.

Thor liked Loki. He’d had a great time today. But he’d promised himself, after their first disastrous meeting, that he’d sell him the car and then leave things at that. There was nothing Thor had experienced before that troubled him as much as the look of _fear_ on Loki’s face when he approached him in the lecture hall that day.

In fact, after that, he hadn’t even intended to try to sell him the car. He’d just wanted things to go back to normal – with each of the two of them politely ignoring each other.

That’d gone well.

But then they’d hit it off. And Loki’d invited him along today, and… Thor couldn’t lie, he’d _loved_ it. He wanted to do it again. But he knew things wouldn’t be straightforward. He’d have to be conscious, and aware of Loki’s weird mannerisms - _I mean, does he even like me? Does he_ hate _me? I_ don’t know - and maybe even secretive, especially about Vanir Motors, which Loki seemed to prize like a gold hoard. There was no way around it. Loki was definitely… not normal.

In the end, though, Thor had to admit that saying to himself that he could choose whether to, from now on, just pretend that none of this had happened, or say ‘screw it’ and just go for it, was just like telling himself that he could choose whether to breathe with his lungs or his _gills_.

Thor was enraptured. Whether it was by Loki, or Vanir Motors, or simply the eccentric way he’d been brought into it all; it didn’t matter. He couldn’t give up the way he already felt when he joked with Loki, or saw new things with Loki, or just _saw Loki._

In the end… in the end he supposed he’d just have to follow this path, and see where it took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... you may not have noticed it but Thor has a little bit of a crush.
> 
> Ahem... anything you have to say about this, positive or negative, is, as always, super appreciated! And, of course, thank you for the feedback you've already given :)
> 
> Oh, and: 
> 
> Loki's car - http://www.nissan.co.uk/GB/en/vehicles/sports-cars/370z.html#vehicles/sports-cars/370z
> 
> Michael's car - http://buyersguide.caranddriver.com/ford/mustang/2012/ford-mustang-gt-coupe-boss-302


	8. (July, 2011 II)

Joe Dent’s office was, like its occupant, squat, and small, and grey. Situated deep in a rabbit warren of identically unobtrusive rooms. Freyr Njordson stormed into it in his usual fashion; without knocking.

He slammed the door so hard that it dented the filing cabinet behind it, sending folders tumbling from a stack on top. Uncaring, he stalked to the desk. Dent, who was on the phone, gave him a stone-cold glare and waved him away, but Freyr was undeterred. He thumped the file he’d been carrying down onto the desk and stabbed at it with his forefinger, shoulders hunched with tension. ‘ _Sir_ ,’ he insisted.

Dent scowled at him and covered his mouthpiece, nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘I’m _on the phone_ , Njordson,’ he hissed, pointing out the obvious. ‘ _Get out._ I’ll deal with you later.’ 

Freyr clenched his fists, bit his lip and then leaned to the side, grabbing the phone’s cable and disconnecting it from the socket.

Dent jumped in his seat, outraged shock on his face. He slammed the phone down. For a moment, the two exchanged glowers, neither ready to yield to the other.

This was how it always went. Freyr didn’t respect Dent because he was an asshole and Dent, who couldn’t believe Freyr’s audacity, would use any excuse to get rid of Freyr. Freyr realized that his current actions played directly into Dent’s hands in that respect, but at the moment, he was just too angry to care.

Eventually, Dent kissed his teeth at Freyr and made a noise like a growling scoff. ‘Sit down,’ he ordered.

Freyr sat, still leaning forward over the desk argumentatively. ‘There’s been a mistake,’ he told his superior.

Dent leaned back. ‘There’s no mistake.’

Freyr indicated the file again. ‘Well then _I’ve_ misunderstood something, because it _seems to me_ that-‘

‘However it _seems_ , it _is_ , Njordson. Loki Liesmith is flying to England tomorrow. We’re letting him go.’ 

Freyr grit his teeth. ‘You _can’t_ -‘

‘We can, and we will. What’s the problem, here? Isn’t this what you wanted from the beginning?’

‘It isn’t exactly what I had in _mind_ , when I… we…’

‘Njordson, listen,’ Dent said, facial expression fluctuating peculiarly as he made a conscious attempt to be sympathetic. ‘I understand it’s hard for you to let all this go. You were there from the beginning. You were the one he called. Liesmith owes you his life, and another man’s at that. Probably more. We’re very grateful. But I don’t see why you’re being so belligerent, when all we’re doing is sticking to the bargain _you_ made; he told us what he knows, and now we’re letting him go. A fresh start for everyone. Everyone wins. _Including you_.’

‘You must think I’m stupid,’ Freyr snarled. ‘I see _exactly_ what you’re doing. You act like you’re so generous, like this is some big favor, but no. You, you’re… you’re tossing him aside just because he’s no longer useful to you, and trying to justify it through semantics. Loki has absolutely _nothing_ , he has _nowhere_ to go to -  _you_ are supposed to be _taking care of him_. _That_ was the _deal!_ ’

‘Do I look like the boy’s social worker, Freyr? That’s not my responsibility! Nor is it yours!' 

‘ _Whose is it,_ then? Because I sure as hell don’t fucking see-‘

‘ _Enough_ , _Njordson!_ Enough! We’re not going to discuss this any more. My decision is final.’ Dent loosened his tie, then jabbed a finger at Freyr before he could try to get another word in edgeways. ‘Loki Liesmith is not some _victim_. With his criminal record, he’s lucky he’s not spending the rest of his life rotting in a cell somewhere like all the rest. I’ve played your little games, but enough is enough. I’m not indulging your adolescent sense of entitlement _any longer_. I’ll tell you now, boy, and this is your first and final warning, if you _ever_ come into my office and behave like this again, it’ll be the _last_ thing you do as an employee of this bureau!’

Dent stood up. ‘Do you understand me _now_ , Njordson?’ he spat.

Freyr went very still. He breathed in and out through his nose. Then he nodded, looking down. ‘Yes. Sir.’ 

Dent huffed. He turned around, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his face red from exertion. 

Freyr kept his gaze hooded for a while, sitting in thought. Then he stared up at Dent’s back. ‘Sir,’ he said.

‘ _What.'_

Freyr swallowed. ‘I won’t try to overturn your decision. I accept it. But… there’s a therapist, Dr Vidia, in London. Maybe you remember her; she helped with the profiling for Davies last year. She’s very well known in her field.’ Freyr paused. ‘All I ask, is for your permission to bring her in as a consultant.’ He tapped to file again. ‘To make it mandatory for Loki to see her. I know the state, and our people, have already given him the OK, but this way we’ll have a second, professional opinion. And,’ he added, licking his lips, ‘we won’t be in the line of fire if things go south with Liesmith. Because we did everything we could.’

Dent waved a hand at him, still scowling horribly. ‘If it’ll get you out of my office, by all means.’

Freyr’s eyebrows raised. Then he nodded abruptly and excused himself.

‘Wait,’ Dent said, as Freyr opened the door. 

He half-turned, pausing in the doorway. When his eyes flicked up to Dent’s, the older man’s expression was still incensed.

‘I’m serious, Njordson. You cracked a big case, you were lucky. But don’t delude yourself that you’re any more valuable than anyone else in this department, just because you were at the right place at the right time.

‘I won’t tolerate disrespect like that from my men. This is your last chance.’

Freyr nodded. ‘It won’t happen again, sir,’ he said, curtly, and closed the door.

As soon as he was out, Freyr allowed his absolute rage to become apparent in his body language again. He walked away from Dent’s office and straight into the other, empty one, across the corridor. He closed the door behind him and locked it, trying to gather himself.

He could have a fit and punch a wall, or he could deal with the situation in a way that actually benefitted people. 

In the end he decided to slump into an office chair and give himself a few minutes to calm down.

Two years of his life he had been on this case. Pretty much his entire career, he had literally put everything he had into it. And then there were men like Dent, who dismissed everything he had worked for – not to mention Loki’s entire future, more or less – because it _inconvenienced_ them.

Freyr wondered what he could have done. How he should have handled it all, how he could have made it all better. If there really was a scenario where ‘everyone wins’.

He wondered how he ought to handle it now. 

Setting fire to everything Dent owned would be a good start. Handing in his resignation was an acceptable alternative too.

He leaned back, staring desolately at the ceiling, and then shook himself

No.

He knew how he could handle it now. 

He had to call Angrboda.

And, while he was at it, his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: italics, the word 'boy'. Next chapter: Freyr commits arson, gets a slow-mo shot walking away from a burning building in ray-bans. Fun for all the family.
> 
> Sorry for the backstory things, I know they can be boring. Also, a heads up: maybe some of you have noticed I've been updating less frequently recently. Because I have exams coming up soon, the next few chapters are probably going to be a bit few and far between. Sorry. Don't worry though, I'm still here.
> 
> Reviewers get '67 chevvies!


	9. February, 2014

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reward for putting up with the notorious back-story chapter, I present to you: filler chapter! Alright!

The next few weeks saw Thor and Loki settling into something of a routine.

Since he’d bought Thor’s car, Loki had started putting in more hours of his time at the shop. Every weekend, and most week nights, Loki watered the plants, locked up his apartment, and rode his bike all the way to Vanir Motors, either in the dark or the growing light of the dawn.

Every Thursday, Saturday and Sunday, he took Thor with him. 

Thor hadn’t even had to insist. Loki, it seemed, simply enjoyed his company.

Thor was, he thought, a fairly likeable guy, but still, he had never felt himself become so comfortable so quickly with another person than he had with Loki, despite Loki’s duplicitous nature. He only hoped Loki felt the same. No - actually, he was pretty certain he must.

They’d spend the nights together in the same room; Thor in a corner trying to get his work done as far away as possible from the chains and heavy machinery draped around the workspace Loki’d claimed, and Loki around or under the red corvette. Either in companionable silence, with Loki’s iPod hooked up to the speaker system and Thor typing away (Freya had surprisingly good wifi), or making light conversation. Sometimes Freya would join them with cocoa, straddling a chair with her arms crossed over the back rest, reciting anecdotes about daytime customers.

Thor spent his time at Freya’s almost in a daze, watching spring approach outside the window and on the drives up, but completely safe and removed inside the garage. He sometimes felt suspended in time. The shop was special; no wonder Loki guarded it so well. 

Thor wondered if he should have said anything to his flatmates. It had sort of been inevitable; after a while they’d realized he wasn’t spending the weekends home alone, and was going off somewhere. Thor had simply told them he was working on the car with Loki.

 

‘It’s nice to have an extra face around here, especially at night,’ Freya told Thor one night from her usual seat. Thor had been removed from the conversation, which was about coworkers he didn’t know, but had eventually drifted to Thor himself. Freya leaned in, covering one side of her mouth with her hand and lowering her voice in mock secrecy. ‘Things get so quiet at night. And I’m sure poor baby Loki gets lonely too, alone in his apartment and then alone in the shop.’

‘I’m can still hear you,’ Loki muttered, crouched on the floor on the other side of the room. ‘But please, don’t let it be a bother.’

Thor grinned, then closed his laptop lid, shuffling forward on his office chair to join them. ‘You live alone, Loki?,’ he asked, turning to face the space he knew Loki occupied behind the car.

‘I, uh… yes.’

‘You never considered a flatshare, or joining a college and living in halls?’

Loki’s head popped up above the car, so that Thor could see him shrug. Loki wiped his forehead with a greasy forearm and leaned forward across the bonnet.

‘It’s what I was used to,’ he said, simply.

‘You had your own place before? What, on a gap year?’

‘No, but I lived alone in sixth form.’

Thor cocked his head. A little alarm bell was going off in his subconscious, but his curiosity compelled him to ignore it. ‘Not with your parents,’ he wondered out loud.

Loki frowned, obviously reluctant to answer, or apprehensive about where the conversation was leading. ‘…No, I didn’t. I was an emancipated minor.’

 _Oh_.

In a moment of uncharacteristic divulgence, Loki clarified: ‘My mother died when I was young. My father, he’s… not really in the picture any more. So…’

Thor stilled, wondering what to say. Freya glanced between the two of them and bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ Thor told Loki, meaning it.

Loki shrugged. ‘That’s alright. I assume it probably wasn’t your fault.’

Thor folded his arms and glanced down, still feeling guilty.

‘Thor.’

He looked up.

Loki was mirroring his pose; arms crossed, but more confident. He gazed very pointedly at Thor’s cast, and then back at Thor. ‘Honestly,’ Loki said. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

Thor grinned. It’d been a while since that was brought up. It was like a get out of jail free card for foot-in-mouth disease. He leaned back in his seat, nodding in acquiescence.

Loki smiled, as if he’d won something. He turned to return to his work, but then he paused. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘but now I am feeling very hurt and sensitive.’ His smile grew into a wicked grin.

‘Freya,’ Loki purred. ‘Dearest Freya. Light of my life.’

Freya scoffed. ‘What do you want, Loki? More of my equipment to trash?’

‘No…’ Loki sung, sidling up to her.

Freya leaned away from Loki as if repulsed. ‘I’m _not_ letting you back on my computer, you little technophile.’

Loki feigned offense. ‘I wouldn’t dare to be so bold, my lady. You think too lowly of me.’ 

‘ _Loki._ ’

Loki draped himself across the worktop in front of Freya and Thor, hand on his forehead as if he felt faint. He gave a pathetic cough and whined, ‘I’m so _cold_ , sweet Freya. Cold and thirsty.’

Freya scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, dear, of course I’ll make you some more cocoa,’ she chirped, falsely sweet.

Loki sprung up with a shit-eating grin, only to be shooed away by Freya as she got up.

‘Thor…?’ she asked, turning to leave.

‘Yes, please.’ Thor smiled, perking up. Freya narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

‘Children,’ she tutted.

Once she was gone, Loki took her chair, and faced Thor, who raised an eyebrow. ‘I wasn’t just trying to get her out of the room, by the way,’ Loki said, ‘I really do love her hot chocolate.’

Thor had to agree. OK, so Loki didn’t want to berate him. Good. Hopefully they could slide back into their normal conversation and forget about Thor’s blunder (God, and he’d been getting so _good_ at shutting up).

Loki stretched in his seat like a cat, before turning back to him.

Loki peered at him. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

Thor pursed his lips. ‘To be honest, I’m a little envious. First the cars, then… you’re good with computers too?’ 

Loki nodded. ‘All… systems, really.’

‘Is there anything you _can’t_ do?’

Loki pretended to think about it, inspecting his nails. He reminded Thor a bit of Tony in that moment. ‘Nope,’ Loki said, ‘I’m perfect.’

‘Hmm.’ 

‘Don’t forget my stunning good looks, though.’

‘Oh?’ Thor pretended to size him up. ‘I… suppose. I mean-’

‘ _Ass_ ,’ Loki laughed, and kicked the base of Thor’s chair, sending him spinning backwards.

 

Later that night, on the back of the Ninja, Thor realized that, despite the time they’d spent together, he really knew next to nothing about Loki. His entire past before Midgard was a mystery. Or, at least, it had been, until tonight.

There was still a barrier between them, he knew that. Trust with Loki took a very long time to build. Even though Thor was Loki’s closest school friend (that he knew of), Loki would still miss class, or come in late looking haggard, or have ‘down’ days, and Thor didn’t feel comfortable to talk to him about it unless Loki himself brought it up. Which he never did. Even the slightest genuine interaction, or instance of intimacy, or laugh from Loki seemed hard to come by, although they were coming more frequently now. There was something there… something that needed to be breeched. But Thor knew that he couldn’t push it. Not any more.

It didn’t matter. He could wait.

 

Although they rarely spent time together outside of the shop, Thor had taken to sitting next to Loki in the classes they shared. He’d come and go with his friends, sure, but during class, they would sit together, and make snide comments about Sitwell when his back was turned, which was enriching and good for the soul.

So Loki noticed when Thor didn’t turn up to class.

Thor never skipped class, Loki thought. He felt like there must be a reason, and that maybe he should know it, but his mind drew a blank. He considered asking Thor’s friends if they knew where he was, but… there was a whole group of them, and Loki didn’t know any of them, and it wasn’t really important, after all. Loki decided to just sit back and let himself zone out like he usually did, typing up notes as if on autopilot.

Half an hour in, though, Thor called him.

Loki swiftly piled his things into his bag, and excused himself silently out the back of the hall to take the call. 

He ended up in the second floor corridor the back door lead to. ‘Hello?’ he asked, once he was sure the door had closed.

‘Loki! Wow.’ Thor sounded breathless. ‘You actually picked up! Aren’t you in class?’

Now that he could hear everything was OK, Loki sighed, slightly peeved. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I _was_. But I always answer my phone, in case something absolutely devastating or very important has happened. Which is, I assume, the case, seeing as you’ve just knowingly disrupted my very precious education.’

‘Oh, it _is_ important,’ Thor said, and Loki could _hear_ the idiot grinning down the line. ‘Turn around.’

Loki jumped and spun around, suddenly afraid that he wasn’t alone. The corridor was empty, though, and he furrowed his brow, peering about. What did Thor mean?

He looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. Then he did a double take, and immediately became very grateful that the reflection in it would hide his blush from people standing outside.

Thor was on the green that the window looked out onto, looking not at all embarrassed, and holding up a giant handmade sign with both hands. It read ‘LUNCH?,’ and the text had arrows beneath it, pointing excitedly down to where Thor’s left hand was.

Of course. Today was the day that Thor got his cast off.

Loki groaned out loud, dragging his hand across his face. He hung up on Thor and leaned against the glass, mouthing the word ‘ _idiot_ ’ as obviously as he could. Thor obviously understood, because he started laughing out loud, but he didn’t move to get rid of his stupid sign. 

That moron. 

Loki ran down to meet him before someone saw.

‘I thought we could get some celebratory lunch,’ Thor explained, enfuriatingly pleased with himself. Loki shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘I could tell,’ he muttered, trying not to be infected by Thor’s chipper attitude.

Loki glanced around. ‘Come on then, let’s get out of here. Before somebody sees us.

‘And throw out that stupid thing.’

They ended up in the café in the forum, treated to Ms T’s best paninis. They sat by the window, where they could people watch. Thor’s posture was always one where his (now pale) hand was obviously on display. Thor’s poster was rolled up in Loki’s bag.

Loki sat across from Thor and tried to glare, but eventually he cracked, giving a small smile he tried to cover with the back of his hand. Thor, though, noticed, and got even more excited, wriggling in his seat like an overeager puppy.

‘A toast,’ Thor declared, raising his coffee mug. ‘To friendships forged unconventionally.’

‘To avoiding being charged with GBH by befriending your victim,’ Loki replied, jovially, and clinked their mugs together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Loki passes /every/ Mary Sue test /ever/, and the world record for pet similes in one chapter is broken.
> 
> OK. Now, finally, the main story arc can begin. 20,000 words in, fantastic. 
> 
> On that note, I genuinely don't know when I'll be able update next. I haven't forgotten, just... finals. Sorry :/
> 
> Reviews. Are my life blood. Love it? Tell me! Hate it? Tell me! Think it's just sort of meh? I don't care! Tell me!
> 
> *hysterical Loki scream* Tell me!


	10. February, 2014 II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot. /Whoah/

On the week of the 17th, three disquieting things happened.

The first thing actually went on all week, but Thor only found out about it on Thursday lunchtime. Thor didn’t notice at first, but he _did_ observe a change in Loki’s behavior; on the way to the café, his normally awkward mannerisms (he disliked the crowds) became exaggerated. He jerked about. He kept glancing in shop windows and spinning around, as if he had just realized he was going the wrong way. He was obviously nervous about something, and it affected Thor, who had to follow him, bobbing around like a disoriented lemming.

Thor asked Loki what exactly it was he was trying to achieve, but was completely ignored. ‘Hey,’ he said, flicking Loki’s shoulder. ‘ _Hey._ What’s going on?’

‘Hmm?’ asked Loki, coming back to Earth. ‘Oh, nothing.’

 _Then_ Loki looped his arm around Thor’s and scooted up to him. Thor was almost speechless, he was so surprised. It was probably the most un-Loki thing his friend had every done.

‘What on _Earth_ has gotten into you?’ he whispered.

Loki’s response was to squeeze him _very_ hard on the shoulder, throw his head back and laugh out loud. ‘He _didn’t_ ,’ he exclaimed. ‘ _No._ Oh, my God, I don’t believe it.’

OK, something was definitely going on. Thor opened his mouth to say something, but Loki saw what he was about to do and gave him a look that had warning written all over it. _Play along_ , he mouthed. Then his face fell into a sort of weirdly blank cheerful expression that didn’t suit him at all, and he suddenly glanced up.

‘Hey! This is where we first met!’

Thor looked around. He didn’t recognize the place at all. ‘…So it is,’ he agreed, smiling nervously.

‘Friendship origin selfie?’ Loki asked, elatedly, whipping out his phone. ‘Say cheese!’

Thor blinked. Then he tried to smile again, and made a peace sign. Loki took around 20 pictures of them at different angles, standing in front of the building where they supposedly met, before he was satisfied. Then he linked arms with Thor again and hurried them away.

When they arrived at the café, Loki declined their usual window seat and took them all the way through to the back. He threw his bag onto a chair and then dragged Thor into the men’s restroom.

‘OK. What’s going on?’ Thor asked, now very worried, if somewhat amused. 

Loki held his finger up, silencing Thor. He used the face of his phone, in camera mode, as a mirror to check around the corner, and then when it was obvious they were alone, he sighed, and allowed his vexation to show on his face.

‘I’m being followed,’ he said. ‘Look.’

And Thor did. In the background of 3 or 4 of the pictures they’d taken earlier, there was a man leaning against a post, looking at his phone. He didn’t look out of the ordinary at all, apart from the fact that he was wearing weird sports sunglasses and it was a cloudy day in February.

That didn’t necessarily make the guy a stalker, though, Thor thought. He could just be an asshole.

He said as much, with an apologetically skeptic expression. 

‘No,’ Loki said, firmly. ‘He’s been here since Tuesday. Every day he follows me to lunch, and last night, he was _outside my apartment._ I swear, I’m not making this up, Thor.’ 

Thor nodded, slowly. No wonder Loki had been so eager to eat with him today. ‘Alright, I believe you,’ he said. ‘Why… why would someone be following you?’ 

Loki folded his arms and looked away. ‘I can think of a few reasons,’ he murmured, more to himself. Then to Thor: ‘I think he’s a PI. He was wearing a trenchcoat before. No, don’t laugh, they still do that. Anyways, now that I have a few pictures, I can send them to someone I know in that business.’ 

‘You know a detective?’ 

‘Yes,’ Loki replied, and he had settled down somewhat by now. ‘And maybe he can identify our new friend. If not… Well, it may seem counterintuitive, but we should continue acting as if nothing’s wrong until there’s a new development.’

‘Do you want to stay at my place for a few days?’

Loki looked taken aback. ‘I- no,’ he said, ‘I’ll be fine. Er… thanks, though.

‘Let’s sit down. He might not’ve come in the café but he could be looking through the windows. Act natural.’

Once they sat down, Thor tried to glance out the window, but Loki kicked him softly under the table. ‘Sorry,’ Thor muttered, then looked up at Loki, who was scanning the menu already.

‘Can we agree to eat together here tomorrow, though?’ he asked. ‘I don’t really like leaving you alone with this guy.’

‘Of course.’

Loki sighed. ‘Thor… sorry. And thank you.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

 

The second thing happened almost exactly 24 hours later, in the exact same place.

Loki’s tail had kindly opted to find some other way to occupy his time that day. So Thor sat in his seat at their usual table, in the weak sunlight, guarding Loki’s things while he used the toilet.

What this meant was that when Loki’s phone, which was face up on the table where he’d left it – and Thor had by now realized that Loki had several phones, and this was his ‘business’ one – received a text, Thor saw the preview.

And, because this particular text was so short, he saw the whole thing.

‘B&E want C again,’ it read.

All this in itself would have meant nothing to Thor, were it not for Loki’s reaction when he sat down and read the message. He made that signature blank face that he always used when he didn’t want people to know that shit had either hit the fan, or was about to, and his hand went to his mouth.

Loki picked up the phone, then he put it down again. Then he looked away and ran his hand through his hair. His face was white.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ he said. ‘Did you read this?’

Thor couldn’t lie. He nodded, tentatively, then explained that he hadn’t understood it at all, though. Loki didn’t seem mad, anyways.

Loki put his fingertips on his temples, deep in thought.

‘Does this have anything to do with that guy from yesterday?’ Thor asked. 

‘No. Yes. Maybe… I don’t know. My friend hasn’t gotten back to me.’

Neither of them spoke for a while.

‘Shit shit _shit_ ,’ Loki muttered, rubbing his face. ‘This has been a _terrible_ week.’

‘Loki.’ Thor frowned. ‘You know… I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not saying-‘

Loki sighed. ‘I know, I know. I mean, I _don’t_ know. I don’t know what this guy wants. But these two…’ he indicated his phone. Then he bit his lip. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Do you remember I told you I was good with computers?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I used to write… programs. That’s how I made money. Then it was computer programs, now it’s car engines. And there was this one… there was this one that I never actually made, because it turned out to be completely impossible, but a lot of people were interested in the idea. Especially these two guys. “B” and “E”.’

‘You don’t know their real names?’

‘No… yes. It doesn’t matter.’

Thor looked at Loki, unamused. ‘Well, apparently, it does.’

‘Thor, please, just-‘

‘Fine, fine. Then who’s “C”?’

‘It’s not a who, it’s an _it._ It’s the initial of the name for the program I never wrote.

‘you know… you know when you were a child, on your parents’ computer, and you’d think, “well _why_ does this webpage not work properly in a certain browser? _Why_ can’t I copy and paste this picture. I mean, sure, it says it’s copyrighted, but I can _see_ they picture. Why can’t they just make a type of webpage that works in every browser, or something that’ll just take a picture and save it to your desktop no matter what?” You know?’

Thor nodded.

‘But then you got older and you learned more and you realized, there are reasons why things won’t work, technologically. Moral reasons, sure, but also there are literal pathways that need to be taken.’ 

‘I think I understand. So, this program… It was like this amazing fix-it thing, that was impossible to make in practice?’

‘Exactly. Anyways, I dealt with these guys a long time ago, and I managed to shake them. Now they’re back. Which is… annoying. That’s all there is to it, I guess.’

Thor put his hand put his cheek. Loki thought he was an idiot if he assumed that Thor was buying that. It wasn’t the whole story at all; it wasn’t even half of it.

‘…OK,’ he said, unimpressed.

Loki scowled at him. But he didn’t say anything

Thor sighed. Loki’s business was Loki’s business, he supposed. But none of this was exactly comforting. ‘Alright. Well… I’m here if you need me, you know.’

Loki nodded, then he looked out the window. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Maybe I will. You know what they say about bad things…’

 

And so, it was only natural that a third thing happened. On Saturday.

Loki didn’t take Thor to the shop with him that morning. Thor’s coach had had a word with him; although his doctor still wouldn’t let him fight, he ought to be supporting the team. Thor agreed.

So on Friday night he’d taken the train with the others to London to watch the semi-finals of their current tournament, which took place the next morning. Tony, who’d also come, to spectate and cheerlead, had agreed to drop Thor off at Freya’s in his car on his way home.

It was evening already as they pulled in to the driveway; Thor knew he wouldn’t have more than a couple of hours to spend with Loki before they had to leave. The sun had set, and the empty sky was a deep indigo color. Nearby, Thor could hear owls.

The place seemed very lonely.

Then Thor realized why; they lights were off.

_Where is everyone?_

‘Nice digs,’ Tony commented as he parked. ‘Looks empty though. Sure you haven’t been stood up?’

Thor peered around, brow furrowed, until he caught sight of the silhouette of the Ninja, parked around a corner. The rest of the lot was completely empty ‘…No,’ he said. ‘His bike’s here.’

‘…But the lights are out. Do you want me to wait?’

‘Don’t bother. I’m sure there’s a reason; it’s probably nothing’ Thor told him, and got out.

Despite what he’d said, Thor got a sense of foreboding as he walked up to the main entrance. He tried the door; it was unlocked.

‘Loki?’ he called as he walked in, waiting for the automatic lights to flicker on before he went any further.

No reply. The only sound was Tony leaving, engine revving in the distance. Then silence.

Thor swallowed. He felt well and truly alone, now, not to mention worried. Where was Loki? He had to be nearby, Thor supposed.

Where was Freya?

Thor had mental images, sometimes, as he worked in the garage, of Loki being suddenly trapped under a car as its supports failed; of some piece of equipment malfunctioning on him, of a welding torch backfiring, and so on. They were irrational fears, he knew, because Loki was a very trustworthy craftsman, but still, he couldn’t help it.

And then there was that sunglasses guy.

What if he’d followed Loki here today? To relative obscurity, where they were alone together and no one else was around? Freya was obviously not here.

Thor found himself breaking into a run as he approached Loki’s workspace.

But it was empty, too; tools abandoned halfway through whatever job they’d been doing. The fact that the lights had turned themselves off meant that no one had been there for more than an hour.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ Thor muttered. He picked up a crowbar and turned back the way he came, checking the other garages, calling Loki’s name. They were all empty. Thor got nothing but silence.

He came to a part of the place he’d never seen before; office space, towards the back. He didn’t know his way around it. That didn’t hinder him from jogging towards it, though.

The lights here didn’t operate via motion sensors, and Thor didn’t know where the switches were, so he crept along a corridor in the dark, crowbar over his shoulder.

He rounded a corner.

At the end of the hall, a door was open, and the wall in front of it was washed in light from a screen inside. 

Thor approached it as silently as he could.

Putting his hand against the door, Thor eased it a little further open, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Across the room was a desk. On it was a computer. And directly in front of it, facing Thor, stood Loki, face screwed up in rapt concern, eyes flickering as he scanned whatever he was reading on the monitor.

Thor gave a sigh of relief, lowering his crowbar. Thank God. Thank _God_. This was going to give him nightmares for _weeks_.

Loki glanced up suddenly, saw him, and swore out loud, jumping up in the air a little and grabbing a stapler as if to throw it.

‘Loki!’ Thor shouted, putting up his empty hand to placate him. He knew firsthand what Loki could be like when startled. ‘It’s me! Don’t-‘

‘Jesus Christ, Thor!’ Loki huffed, still wielding the stapler. ‘What are you doing here? You scared the- you- you- don’t you knock!?’

Loki shook himself and turned off the monitor, walking around the desk. He flicked on a desk lamp. ‘For such a big guy, you sure can be stealthy when you want to,’ he muttered to himself. 

Thor leaned back against the door. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I- all the lights were off. I was worried. Where’s Freya?’

Loki shrugged. ‘She’s not around today.’ 

He looked nervous.

Thor looked around the room, processing his thoughts. ‘But… this is her office, isn’t it?’

Loki didn’t reply. He tapped his thigh with a forefinger.

Thor furrowed his brow and walked into the room. ‘…And you’ve been here for over an hour,’ he added.

They exchanged a look. For Loki it was a chance to gauge how to handle the situation; for Thor it was an admission of guilt.

He walked around the desk to face the blank screen. ‘Thor,’ Loki warned him, putting his hands up to get him to stop. Thor looked up at him, finger hovering over the power button. Then he sighed.

‘If you want me to stop, then I will,’ he told Loki, ‘but I don’t-‘

‘No. Wait.’ Loki groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sighed. 

‘No, you should actually probably see this.’

Thor turned the monitor back on again.

He was looking at some sort of spreadsheet; Loki came up to stand next to him.

‘They’re… finances, for the shop,’ Thor guessed. Loki didn’t say anything, but he nodded.

Thor bit his lip. He wasn’t very good with this sort of thing. Thankfully, Loki took the mouse from him, scrolling down the page and selecting figures as he went.

‘Here,’ he said, ‘here, and here.’ Then he looked up at Thor, waiting for him to get it.

Thor glanced at Loki, then back at the page. ‘ _Oh_ ,’ he realized, finally. ‘We’re-‘

‘In debt. Massively.

‘She’s been borrowing money for months.’ Loki scowled. ‘And she’s been lying about it.’

‘So… will VM be repossessed?’ Thor wondered, scrolling back up the page.

_£10,000 here… another £5,000 there… how many people does Freya owe money to?_

‘If things keep going at this rate, then yes,’ Loki explained. ‘Within months.’

Loki rubbed his chin, staring at the screen again. ‘But they won’t,’ he added.

Thor looked up. ‘Oh, no?’ he asked.

Loki tapped his cheek, smirking. ‘Not if I have any say in it.’

Thor nodded. Of course. Trust Loki to have a plan already.

He sighed and stood back as Loki started to cover his tracks and log out. ‘And you found all this out,’ Thor guessed, ‘by-‘

‘Snooping around exactly where I was told not to. Yes. She was making it obvious something was wrong.' 

‘And Freya doesn’t know.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Loki,’ Thor said, seriously, ‘for the record, I think you did the right thing.’

Loki paused, then turned to face him. His eyebrows were raised in surprise. ‘Thanks,’ he said, quietly.

Thor nodded again. ‘So what now?’

Loki turned off the computer and stood up. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘We’re going to have a little chat with Miss Njordson.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been having a little competition with myself to see how many AU genres I can get in here. I think by now it's safe to add coffeeshop to the roster. /Three/ coffeeshop scenes, I mean, come on.
> 
> I love how I said I wouldn't be able to update for a while, and now I'm more productive than ever. Procrastinating studying does great things for the muse! Please let me know what you think, as per usual. And thank you so so much for all the lovely reviews :)
> 
> Ivy


	11. February, 2014 III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for panic attacks, mentions of self harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a million years, I know. So much for an 'exam-inspired muse,' or whatever. Anyways... I'm still alive!
> 
> I've realised that, in the interest of whatever they call the opposite of dramatic irony, I've had more Thor POV chapters recently than I'd like to in a Loki-centric fic. So I'll get things out of the way and try to reveal Loki's dark terrible past sooner rather than later, and I'll give him more of a narrative voice from now on if I can.
> 
> Also, speaking of things about this story that I know and you don't: I was talking to a friend about this AU and realised that most of my headcanons and ideas about all the characters and places in it are never actually explained in the fic, and maybe never will be. Due to physical lack of time/space. In reality pretty much every character in the MCU is somewhere in this verse during this story, and they all have a set role, even if the reader never hears about it. In this chapter, you'll see, I try to look more into the lives of the other Avengers, as opposed to just focusing on Thor and Loki. Or at least, to include them. Is this something people are interested in? Or are you just here for the Thor/Loki dynamic? I'd be interested to know.
> 
> Anyways, enough blahdiblah. Happy reading :)

They left more or less in the dead of night, Loki carrying Thor to MU on the Ninja. The bike necessitated silence, for which Loki was grateful; the uncomfortable closeness of his passenger, combined with the stuttering anger still creeping through his body, meant that any conversation would have been stilted and coarse.

Loki and Thor were engulfed gradually by the city. Highways, pools of neon streetlight and shadowed underbrush, gave way to the subtle, ordered vibrancy of Midgard’s suburbs, and then in turn to the bold effervescence of the university's nightlife. South of city's business district there were few doorways without students loitering beneath them at this time of night – a few whom Loki was sure Thor would know. He, Loki, however, remained obstinately indifferent to the sights. He dropped Thor off at the bar he had requested with a curt nod and headed west towards his apartment.

Loki wrung his wrists over the handlebars more or less all the way home.

The door slamming shut behind him was a blessing, a cutting off of the world outside. Physical, if not psychological; Loki still needed to address the minor issue that one of the only places he’d ever called home might be taken from him in a matter of months.

The worst thing – the most cutting, most scalding thing - about it was that Loki knew that no matter how important Freya realised Vanir Motors was to him, she still hadn’t told him what was happening. And it was Loki's fault.

Freya didn’t trust him. She couldn't. No matter how long they’d known each other, no matter how close they’d become, Freya still glanced at Loki out of the corner of her eye with unease. She still hid from him that which she thought might tempt him, and she still accepted the role – the original role – that she had in his life; that of a glorified babysitter, reigning in an unruly child. Really, it was a miracle he'd ever ended up racing for her at all.

Loki stepped over his mail and into the apartment, tense with growing frustration. He paced in thought, ghosting his hands over the countertops in his kitchenette and then alternatively balling them into fists, skin taut over the bones of his knuckles.

Despite what he’d said – or implied – to Thor in Freya’s office, Loki didn’t have a plan. He paid for his education – and overpriced flat – through a combination of the small percentages he earned selling his clients’ renovated cars, the salary he earned from Freya at the shop, and the commission for programmes he’d written while skipping the majority of secondary school. Along with a pretty hefty government loan.

Plus, he had what he’d earned – or what was left of it, anyways, what hadn’t been deemed ‘immorally obtained’ – while he was still working for his father.

This meant that after tuition and maintenance, Loki had a large enough flow of cash that he could afford, perhaps, a ritzy holiday, or a new bike, a year, and have enough money left over to make a small addition to his savings account.

It was what an 18 year old would regard as a small fortune; it enabled him to live a lifestyle that most students would only fantasise about. What it wasn’t, however, was enough. Not enough to buy back the majority of a too-slowly-booming auto business.

That aside, Loki doubted that Freya would ever accept money from him in the first place. That was the thing about the Vanir, he thought; they were quick and independent – perhaps even manipulative at times – but they were too damned noble for their own good

Not like a Jotun.

In the back of his mind Loki knew – or, he thought he did, at least – that he’d be able to work through this. He wouldn’t allow the alternative. He’d talk with Freya. He’d make her involve him even if she didn’t want to, and together they’d be able to put their heads together and sort something out.

There was no other option.

But, the business aside, he didn't see how he could salvage his actual relationship with Freya. What they had was a hesitant limbo that barely served as an excuse for a friendship, and the recent betrayal - at least, he saw it as a betrayal - only served to prove it. How could Loki prove to Freya that he was trustworthy, and mentally stable enough to take on burdens instead of having them hidden from him?

The truth was, he knew that he wasn't. He was flighty and secretive and there were still things in his life that he wouldn't want her to know about, even after all this time.

Way back when he'd first met Freya, Loki's life had been undergoing massive changes. At that time he had promised - to himself, and to Freyr, and to Joe Dent and all those other bureaucratic FBI assholes - to put everything in the open once and for all. To turn over a new leaf. Hell, his release had been _conditional_ on it. And, of course, he swore to start forming actual, healthy relationships with people that genuinely cared about him.

And yet here he was, almost three years on, still keeping secrets, still stuttering through small talk and still unable to move on from the person he'd become so used to being.

Part of him wondered if he'd ever be able to become... Just, _normal_. A normal human being.

Loki huffed and went to his balcony, where he smoked fixedly until his hands shook and the soles of his feet went numb with cold. The warm flash that Midgard had seen at the beginning of term had left just as quickly and silently as it had come, and with its passing returned the bone-deep British cold that Loki had known every winter since he’d moved there.

Rubbing his shoulders, he let himself back inside, ate a mint and started sifting through his mail.

An attempt at distraction.

The letters revealed nothing interesting. The emails that followed were commonplace. His voicemail, however, yielded a surprise; Angrboda had called him earlier at home, and left two messages when he didn’t pick up.

As he listened to her greeting his answering machine, Loki felt a brief and subtle clench of fear in his gut. He hated missing calls. They always filled him with the irrational worry that he might’ve failed someone who needed him, and endangered them with his absence. It was, he realised, surely quite narcissistic of him.

Angrboda seemed fine enough, he thought, although she was being unusually hesitant choosing her words.

‘Hello, Loki,' she said, voice slightly fuzzed with static. ‘Just checking in. Actually, I wanted to talk, but obviously you're not there. Could you please call me when you get this?'

The second message was a little longer, but not by much:

'Loki, it's Angrb- Angie again. Just to say please don't worry about that last message, it's nothing bad or urgent. I'd just like to chat. So... When you have the time.

'I didn't mean to worry you. Hope you're well. Talk to you s-'

He cut off the rest of the message.

Loki sat in the dim lighting of his empty apartment and steepled his fingers on top of his crossed legs. He stared straight forwards, motionless, and thought.

It didn't take much inference to tell why she wanted to speak to him, and why she'd dropped the colloquial manner of speech that she'd developed in their conversation as they stopped becoming client and therapist, and started becoming friends.

Angrboda was worried about him. About his psyche.

Their recent chats had become more and more abrupt, and she could tell that he had a lot going on in his life, and that it was overwhelming him. And she was going to recommend he start seeing someone again. Perhaps her - maybe someone else. Loki didn't know which prospect was more unappealing; coming back to see Angrboda - Dr Vidia - as a patient, or having to bare his soul to another complete stranger.

Realistically, he should have seen this coming. Angrboda was obviously dissatisfied with his... progress.

Well, it all boiled down to one thing. She, like Freya, did not trust Loki.

Loki felt as if the floor had just been completely and utterly swept out from under his feet. Like this whole veil of self-deceit that he’d built around himself in a panic had just been completely torn down in the face of tangible evidence.

He’d gotten lackadaisical. Too comfortable, and too trusting, and he’d forgotten the truth; he wasn’t a person you spent time with, or enjoyed things with, or were friends with. Loki was someone you _dealt_ with.

And he couldn't change it. He didn't think he ever would.

He put his head on his knees and sighed. So much of his life he'd been playing a part to meet an end. He was the perfect actor. But this- God, it was his _life_ , and he was _stuck_ in it. What was there to do? What could he do? _How can I be true to myself, Angie, like you say, when the person I am is this- this- this self-destructive waste of space?_

He wanted to run away from it, all of a sudden he just wanted to run and hide. But he couldn’t. He needed to ground himself, he thought, and to ride through the low, because that’s all it was – a low. And he’d thought that it might have been OK, but all of a sudden it was just- just too much.

And so he needed- _Gods, he thought, recovery is just terrible. What I wouldn’t give to go back to the time I could just acknowledge that I wasn’t going to live past 20, grab a razor and call it a day_.

He shook his head. In his mind’s eye Angrboda loomed over him, all five foot four of her, her eyes fiery with chastisement. _You see, Loki, she scolded, this is exactly what I knew would happen. You’re predictable to a fault_.

 _Think about the people in your life_ , Loki thought. _How many are there? Around four. No. No, close circle – and, by the way, you have a very loose definition of ‘_ close _’ – there are_ exactly _four. The reason that you know these people is that they’ve all been dragged into your life to deal with your fuckups, and the reason they’ve stayed with you all this time – is_ pity _._

 _Freya keeps you around because she knows you’d sit alone all day going slowly insane if she didn’t. It’s not as if she actually trusts you enough to allow any degree of intimacy or, I don’t know, some God damned_ dependence _._ Freyr _you haven’t heard from in months, but let’s not forget that after devoting most of the last few years of his life to you he’s now self-employed in one of the worst paying freelance jobs there is, which is probably also your fault._ Angrboda _is, or at least she was up until recently, maybe your closest acquaintance in terms of dialogue and she’s your GOD DAMNED PSYCHOTHERAPIST._

Loki gripped the hair on either side of his head in both hands. He was, he realised very distantly, crying. It was pathetic, but- but he couldn’t stop.

 _And- and,_ fuck _! Let’s not forget Thor!_ Thor _is some stranger you physically assaulted on the street! The only real friend you’ve ever had, who probably thinks of you as nothing more than a convenient six-by-five garage to plunk his old man’s car into, and who you’re currently forcibly pushing away with your ridiculous antics! Freaking out over text messages that might as well say ‘Eagle 2 has landed’ or ‘7 ate 9!’_

He stood up. Took a gasping breath. Sat down again, shakily. His throat was swollen with anxiet; he couldn't breathe. He felt sick, and all of a sudden he was very, very aware of the darkness and emptiness of the room around him. At the same time, it was as if exposed; as if there were eyes everywhere, all on him, and he was torn open and raw. _Trapped_ in his own body and his ribs were a tiny tiny claustrophobic cage that he was stuck inside and his breaths were coming short and not fast enough and he was hit oh he was _hit_ with the oh-so-familiar terror that everything was _real_ and it was _happening_ and it was all too _fast_ and so he was trapped, ( _OK hurry now Loki you need to ground yourself what can you_ ) _trapped_ already by his own _stupid fucking idiocy_ and his _plots_ and _schemes_ and he was trying so _hard_ he had been trying _so hard you have-_

_So hard you have-_

_You have been trying yes but it’s not enough, no it’s never fucking enough, Loki. You don’t have any control of this situation._

_God, I don’t- I’m not- I need-_

_You’re pathetic, Loki. You’re pathetic. I look at you and I feel nothing but shame._

_Loki. Listen to me._

_You are my_ shame _._

All of a sudden he was in the forest again and the monster was there. The monster was there again. Hulking and sinewed with breath rolling out from between its jagged, spit-slathered fangs that reeked of pure _rot_.

But he was also alone in his apartment, he knew.

And at the same time again he was in a small basement, a long long time ago, out of sight, smell, and mind, and there was a clank of metal on metal and the monster was there too and it was tutting and shaking its head now and it was oh, _oops. Oopsie. Look at the mess you’ve made, Loki. Look Loki look look look Loki at what you’ve done again what a shame what a shame you are Loki. Well you know what happens-_

_You are my shame. You know that, don’t you._

_You do know that, right?_

_What you are?_

_And your_ mother-

Loki's voice cracked like a whip against the four walls as the shriek, short and slight, left his lips, shocking enough to startle him back into the present. He breathed in, giving a loud, choking sob, completely against his will, and looked up, tears blurring his vision.

He was in his flat.

Hands shaking, panting like a dog. Knees drawn to his chest. He was sitting on the floor, halfway off the couch, gripping tightly on the rough material with his left hand. He bowed his head, trying to slow his breathing, trying to focus. _One_ , he told himself. _One, two. Count to ten. No, count to sixty._

He did, pausing to swipe awkwardly at the tear tracks lining his cheeks. Then he sighed, loud and heavy, coughed, and stood up. He checked his watch.

It was three in the morning.

Had it really been that late? Or had he lost time again, for the first time in almost a year? He was struck by an almost paralysing fear - _remember, Loki, that you are living in an endless cycle_ \- that now it was going to get worse again, things were going to get worse. He'd have to leave school, God he'd have to call Angie - _God_ -

No. That was ridiculous. All he needed now was some space. And to stop thinking, to- just _stop_.

He needed some air.

 

 

Lighter out, lights off and he was out the door, cigarette lit before he'd even left the lobby. Every breath was a godsend, easing over his body and loosening his skin, his muscles, physically pushing him back and onto the ground.

Once he was on the street he threw the cigarette away, picked a direction and stuck with it, making a rhythm out of the shade and lights cast by the lamps he passed under. Everything had to be methodical.

The few strangers, mostly drunk, left straggling on the streets, he ignored - as he did the street lights and signs, the music blaring from windows, the private lives and the little worlds of all the people in Midgard as he passed them by. He ignored even the rushing river when he eventually passed over it, focusing only on the beat of his shoes on the pavement.

Everything was going to be OK. It was far behind him now, and, yes, it would still be there when he got back, but it would be manageable. He'd manage it.

Gradually, he broke into a run.

Fears and tribulations were pushed aside by the pure adrenaline of a good sprint.

He must look ridiculous, he realised, tearing down streets in a dress shirt covered in engine oil, but he didn't care. Just putting one foot in front of the other felt absolutely gratifying.

Loki ran into Midgard, hypnotically driven, pacing down alleys and boulevards alike as if the hounds of hell were on his tail. He ran until his calves burned with exertion, and his tar-stained lungs heaved so hard with each new breath that he felt they might just tear apart.

Eventually he had to stop; leaning heavily against a brick wall to catch his breath. The pub signs, burning neon lights and the blurred faces of confused onlookers finally came into focus as the adrenaline of the run faded.

He was back in the sector of Midgard famous for the nightlife; bordering on its small red light district. Right next to him a man comforted his friend, who was vomiting heavily onto the street. On his other side a cohort of tipsy girls peered at Loki in wonder and concern.

He tried to quiet his out-of-breath huffing and pushed himself off of the wall. '...Hi,' he said to the girls, embarrassed, and started to walk away.

Loki stalked down the centre of a cobbled street, hugging his sides and trying not to shiver in the petrifying cold. Hoping for a warm doorway to pass under. Glancing around in the hopes of sighting a street name to help orientate himself, his eyes passed over smoking vents, deviously placed roasted chestnut stands that dripped oil and reflected bright lights, and layered, multifunctional terraces.

The boutiques that lined the street were all closed, but that didn't affect the activity streaming through it. Loki was surrounded by promoters, violently dressed clubgoers, chanting hen parties and the occasional sharply, darkly dressed smoker who would lean against any vertical surface, alone or in a pack, and regard the rest of their fellow pedestrians. Simply, apparently, because they could.

Everyone around Loki seemed confident and possessed by a severe sense of security in their actions. He, on the other hand, was forced to swerve to avoid the others, all who seemed intent on carelessly bumping into him. He was also completely lost.

Patting his pockets revealed that he'd brought nothing with him but two cigarettes and a lighter. His coat, phone, and also, he realised, cringing, his keys, were all back in his flat.

Which he now of course couldn't access.

Oh well, he thought, he could probably break in or wake up his neighbours and demand that they give him the spare key, the one he knew that they had, to one of the unrented penthouses higher in the building. Primarily, he needed to get his bearings and find a way back home.

He stopped two unassuming 30-somethings who had been meandering towards him in the opposite direction, tentatively asking for directions towards the river, or the art district, in the centre of which he lived. They were sympathetic enough but, of course, completely unable to speak English, Spanish and, when he tried it, French too. Italians, he realised, sighing and waving them away with a 'thanks anyways' smile.

As he turned to walk on he was stopped by a group who'd overheard his attempt at conversation with the tourists. Four French students, all male barring one, and all exceedingly drunk. 'Hey, cher,' slurred the girl, a tall blonde with hazel eyes and an unsettling cheshire grin. 'You are lost, then.'

Loki turned around without a second thought, not at all interested in humouring them. One of the girl's companions laughed out loud at this, but the other, inflamed, shoved Loki in the back, sending him stumbling. 'Rude,' the stranger hissed.

When he whirled to confront them, Loki was met with what must have been a full pint of beer to the face; it dripped into his hair, soaked the front of his shirt and left it clinging, freezing, to his skin. Loki gasped in shock, much to the humour of his cackling assailants.

When he stepped back, desperate to get away - he was lost, after all, now afraid, and of course also hopelessly outnumbered - the beer-thrower rounded on him. But the girl stopped him, hand on his arm, and muttered at him to 'let him go, Louis. He didn't do anything.'

Loki didn't stick around to hear Louis' reply.

He trotted, wet and miserable, teeth chattering with cold, towards the end of the street, to where it met a major road at a T-junction. He turned right.

On the open road he immediately glanced around, hoping to find a sober group (preferably female) to ask for help. When he couldn't see anyone fitting that description he resolved not to risk talking to drunks again, and stalked down the pavement with his arms folded and chin ducked, hunched in on himself. He considered taking his shirt off and risking arrest by wandering around downtown half-naked. He didn't think he'd ever been so cold before in his entire life.

 _To streak or not to streak_.

As he walked a car drew up alongside him from the other side of the road and pulled over. Loki startled, glancing up at it; it was a champagne Porsche 911. The windows were tinted.

He glanced around. No one else seemed to have noticed the car, or been expecting it.

Fantastic. He was about to be mugged for two cigarettes by some billionaire.

The driver's window rolled down and a black guy about his age, someone he'd never seen before, leaned out and addressed Loki directly. 'Get in,' he said.

Loki raised both eyebrows and gave an indignant snort. 'Um,' he told the driver, 'no?'

 _Good one_ , he thought. _Can't catch me, ill-intentioned stranger_.

Before the driver could reply, his passenger shoved him bodily out of the way, climbing over the driver's seat and practically straight out of the open window. Beneath him, his associate let out a stream of muffled swears. ' _Loki_!' the passenger shouted, pointing accusingly right at him. 'Hey, Loki Liesmith, get in the car!'

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, leaning forwards - but not within arm's reach - and peered into the car. 'Anthony Stark?' he wondered.

'The one and only! Here to take you wherever your heart desires' (' _no_ ,' interjected the driver). 'But hurry up, alright, because you're not the only straggler we're picking up tonight.'

Tony was, Loki realised - just like, apparently, everyone else in this God forsaken hellhole city - ridiculously drunk.

Loki wrinkled his nose, affronted. 'I'm not... straggling,' he muttered.

The driver, Stark's friend, shoved Anthony out of the window and back into his seat. 'Come on, man,' he said, turning back to Loki. 'You're plastered.' He gestured at Loki's beer-stained shirt.

Loki frowned. 'I am _not_ drunk.'

The driver raised one eyebrow. 'OK then, so... who are you out with? Where's your ride?'

Loki didn't reply, at which the driver actually opened the door and got out of the car. Loki jumped, backing up with his heart racing, not keen on having anything else thrown in his face that evening. Or something. But the driver only held up his hands in a placating gesture and took off his coat.

He laid it over Loki's shoulders, while Loki glared at him suspiciously.

'Where's your coat, man? Your phone, your money?' The other man sighed and gave a patronising head shake. 'You're _shaking_. Come on, get in the car already.'

He opened the door for Loki.

Loki groaned. He supposed, realistically, there weren't many alternatives.

Before he got in a thought struck him and he paused, hand on the door. 'Hang on,' he said, 'where are we going?'

'Everyone's crashing at their flat,' the driver told him, nodding to Stark in the car.

At Loki's look of horror, the driver gave a weak smile. 'Well,' he suggested, 'at least you can wait somewhere warm while you call a cab.'

He considered it, tapping his nail against the open door. Then he shrugged, sighed and got in.

A blond man was sitting in the cramped back seat already (and Anthony Stark might as well have been, because he was forcing his upper body over the CD carrier and into the back so he could grin at Loki). Loki wondered how on earth they were going to fit more people inside of the car. The blond gave a weak flap at Loki as he slid in, returning afterwards to leaning his forehead against the steam-coated window and sighing morosely. 'Steve Rogers,' Stark explained to Loki by way of introduction, nodding at the blond. 'And of course you know me, and you can call me Tony, Lokes. Rhodey, Steve, this is Loki who is my classmate and also the new owner of Thor's old car and the reason our dear, _dear_ friend is now deserting us and heading out for the sticks every weekend. Oh and um, Loki this is our lovely designated driver Mister James Rhodes aka Rhodey, who is coincidentally also the second newest and most fabulous member of the Avengers.'

Loki nodded in thanks and greeting at Rhodes in the rear-view mirror. 'Avengers?' he asked Stark.

Stark - Tony - extrapolated, in the peculiarly deadpan way of his that was, Loki started to understand, a sometimes animated, sometimes subtle unfiltered stream of consciousness. One that the less analytically inclined might begin to unconsciously ignore. This would actually have allowed Tony to be able to insult practically everyone in a room with a grin on his face and have them later fawning over him, completely infatuated and completely oblivious.

Loki made sure to pay attention.

The Avengers was the members' name for Thor's martial arts club. Tony was apparently its student body manager cum private chauffeur, and had been supervising it during the finals - semi-finals - of a major tournament that morning. Well, Saturday morning. And they'd won.

So naturally they'd instigated a celebration that had degraded into some sort of drunken scavenger hunt that had included the breaking of more than one law.

On the way home they picked up two more drunken revellers; an apparent couple, they were short, unathletic looking Russia students with bodies that were on second glance actually very toned - lithe in the case of the girl, Natasha, and well built in the case of her male counterpart, Clint. They ended up travelling with Natasha wedged over her old friend Rogers' lap (and, in part and to his great consternation, Loki's lap too) and Clint locked in the boot. Upon enquiring about Thor, Loki was reassured that he had made it home before them. This, of course, caused Rogers to remember that the reason he'd been so depressed the whole car ride was that his best friend Bucky was actually still missing.

The assorted Avengers collectively decided to give up on Bucky, seeing as, if they actually did manage to find him wandering around somewhere in Midgard's back alleys, he'd probably end up having to travel home on the roof. Loki was seriously concerned about how easily they gave up on their friend, but nobody else seemed to care. 'He will be terribly missed,' Tony lamented, 'but we must all remember that his untimely loss served for a greater good. That of my poor car.' Rogers only huffed.

When Loki stepped over the threshold of Thor's flat - accompanied by am unamused Rhodes, by Rogers who was carrying Natasha, by a yawning, grumpy Clint, and by Tony, who was snickering and hushing them all as loudly as he could - he almost immediately tripped on a body in the hallway.

Rhodey had been right; Thor had made it home before them. But apparently he hadn't gotten too far after that. He was only sleeping, thankfully, but he was rather unhelpfully obstructing all of their paths. And he wasn't the only one; there were people everywhere, and all of them sound asleep. On the living room couches, curled up on top of the dining room table, even. When Loki, under Rhodes' instruction, tried to take a quick and much-needed shower, he was shocked to find (when half-undressed) the missing Bucky - glitter in his shoulder length hair and smudged mascara all over his face - snoozing nonchalantly in the bathtub. Loki had to call for (the now elated) Rogers' help to kick him out.

With his hair finally washed, Loki dressed warmly in Thor's clothes. Rhodey had reasoned accurately that Loki's own clothes were absolutely out of question until they'd been washed and dried, and that Thor, being closest to Loki out of any of the flat's actual residents, would care the least if Loki wore his things.

Loki was the last one left awake in the apartment. He made his way to the only actual empty room there; the kitchen. Here, Tony, with Steve's help, had left him some sort of heated teddy bear water bottle for sick people, along with various cough and flu medicines, while Rhodey was sorting out Loki's clothing situation.

It was already 5am - he reasoned that the sun would rise in a couple of hours, and decided not to bother calling a taxi. Hopefully Thor would be up for driving back to Freya's in the morning for their 'little talk'. Loki could also get his spare keys from her then.

He set an alarm for 8:30, made himself a peppermint tea and stirred it sleepily, thinking halfheartedly about tomorrow and Freya. He felt concerned, yes, and worried, but - despite the disastrous turn the day had taken only hours before - strangely unafraid. The peculiarly familial joviality of the Avengers had rubbed off on him - in Thor's flat, not for the first time, he felt safe. Even despite its current population density of about one student per square meter.

He snuck into the living room and stole a blanket and pillow, which he dragged through to the hallway and gave to Thor. Loki was careful not to wake him as he nudged the pillow under his head.

Back in the kitchen, he dropped himself into one of the cushy living room armchairs - for some reason it'd been dragged up against the counter - and nursed his half-finished tea. Thor's clothes were casual - tracksuit bottoms, a shirt, layered flannel that Rhodey and Rogers had insisted on and a zip hoodie - and soft. Too big but extremely comfortable. He felt almost as if he were wearing a nest.

Loki set his mug on the countertop above him, humming to himself, and closed his eyes - just for a second.

Before he even knew it, Loki had leaned his cheek against the countertop and slipped away.


	12. February, 2014 IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who isn't dead!
> 
> Half a year later- a mediocre chapter for u. I haven't really been in touch with the story for a while so there might be some continuity issues here, yikes. I'm sorry but I just wanted to get this up. I'm not finished with this story, and I'm going to be going back and editing this chapter - in fact, I'll be editing the whole piece. If I change anything drastic I'll let you know in the next chapter's notes so you don't have to reread anything you don't want to.

Thor woke up on the floor with an assortment of shoes right by his face. There was a terrible trembling sickness creeping through his body; when he tried to shake it off, his head only spun with the inescapable nausea that came after a good concussion. Or, of course, a night out with USA. 

Thor moaned into the carpeting. He was about to stand up. He could do it.

_Alright. One, two, three._

He swayed on his feet for a few seconds, head in his hands, before stumbling towards the kitchen. ‘Alka seltzer,’ he mumbled to himself, as if vocalising the want would make his hungover brain more likely to remember it later. 

Thor suppressed a desperate desire to bang his head against a wall until its insides slopped out onto the floor. _Food_ , he thought. _Breakfast will fix this. Breakfast and alka seltzer._

He had been wondering if he was one of the first ones up, but Tony’s friend Rhodey joined him, bleary-eyed, as he reached the kitchen door. The kitchen itself was apparently already quite full; Tash, Steve, James and Jane Foster all greeted him as he entered. They were accompanied by the beautiful smell of well-cooked bacon.

And, to Thor’s astonishment: Loki Liesmith, sheepishly tossing pancakes in the corner. 

‘Wha…‘ Thor mumbled. Was he still drunk?

Loki bit his lip. The conversation halted as he shrunk under Thor’s confounded stare, eyes flitting around nervously. The whole kitchen glanced between Thor and Loki, wondering what the cause for the tension was. ‘Good… morning,’ Loki said, finally, cautiously. ‘I made breakfast. Sorry if, this… I. I should have left earlier. I shouldn’t’ve-‘

‘No, no, oh my God, Loki, don’t worry.’ Thor shook his head. A smile was cracking across his face against his will. ‘I was just surprised. I thought maybe I was still asleep.’ _Oh, my God,_ he thought, _did I just say that out loud?_ Thor coughed. ‘Um, you… what…?’

Steve interjected. ‘We picked him up last night on the way home. He locked himself out of his flat, apparently. Thor, do you want something for that headache?’

Thor let himself strike up a chat with Steve while Loki resumed talking to Jane and Bucky. He wasn’t even sure what Jane was doing there, and he was honestly a bit annoyed that she’d so liberally allowed herself into his flat, but he didn’t want to start anything. Besides, Loki seemed to be hitting off with them, which was good. He was still twitchy, and obviously struggling to hide his discomfort at physical proximity, but he spoke animatedly and laughed every now and then. James seemed to like him, too, which was incredibly rare. 

Thor had a few questions to ask Loki about his visit, seeing as the keys story seemed quite unlikely to be genuine giving Loki’s anal-retentive nature. He wanted to hope everything was all right. But as the kitchen got more and more crowded, all they could really do was smirk at each other over the multiple conversations being held. Tony was excitedly recapping last night’s highlights to an uninterested audience, Bruce was looking terrified in a corner and Tash was trying to use a combination of unsubtle gestures and ASL to reiterate to Thor her displeasure at his relationship with Loki.

Eventually Thor cleared his throat and reached across the room to Loki, leading him out into the hallway and closing the door. Loki breathed a sigh of relief, leaning on the wall while Thor checked for unwanted listeners.

Thor returned to him. ‘Is everything OK? I should never have-‘

‘Yes. _Yes,_ don’t look at me like that. Hey, it wasn’t last night, but it’s fine now.’ 

Thor nodded slowly. ‘Well, all right. Thanks for breakfast. Do you want to go see Freya now?’

Loki blinked in surprise. ‘How did you know?’ he wondered.

Thor shrugged. ‘Isn’t that what you were so anxious about before? Anyways, if you don’t have your keys…’

Loki gave a despondent snicker. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘about that. I was hoping we could take your car. Then I remembered-’

‘I sold it-‘

‘ _Yes_ yes you sold it to me. Everybody makes mistakes, Thor. I’m going to have to go back and break in. Then, um, I’ll come back here and get you and my things on the Ninja.’ He nodded to himself and headed for the entrance.

‘Is that… feasible? You said you live pretty high up.’

‘Don’t worry, _mother_ , I’ve done it before.’ Then he screwed up his face, thoughts turning inward. ‘Did I say that right?’

Thor rolled his eyes. Loki honestly acted like an alien sometimes. ‘OK, well, here, take my bus pass,’ he instructed. ‘You’re leaving right now?’

Loki glanced back up at Thor and nodded, quickly opening the door and stepping outside. ‘I’ll, uh, thank everyone upon my return.' 

‘Erm. Wait.’

He stiffened, glancing back over his shoulder. ‘What?’

‘Are you wearing my clothes?’

Loki swallowed and slammed the door.

 

In the end, he didn’t make it more than a few steps onto the landing before Tony dragged him back inside, insisting on driving the pair up to VM himself. Loki’s protestations were met only with half-baked excuses – the shambled reasoning of a someone with a hangover – but in the end he acquiesced. If only because Thor looked physically sick at the idea of spending an hour and a half on the back of a motorbike in his current condition.

They made most of the drive in silence; Loki chewed his lip and drummed his fingers on the dashboard, compiling his thoughts, while Thor sat cramped in the back, complaining about Tony’s music choice on Loki’s behalf. ‘His tender ears aren’t ready for rock,’ Thor pleaded. Tony snorted in disgust.

When Tony tried to ask the reason for the impromptu visit (as well as Loki’s ‘drunken’ ramblings the night before, which Tony had figured were related to the same incident), Thor shut him down quickly, reassuring him that a) it was private and b) not really worth the hassle of explaining. The latter point Loki was sure was a lie, as Tony appeared to be something of a gossip and would probably have been intrigued by the story, but Loki of course neglected to call Thor out on it.  He just continued staring out across the dashboard, lost in thought.

  

When they finally reached VM, Loki asked for some time to talk to Freya in private. This worked nicely into Thor’s hands, as Tony had been glancing at him in the rear-view mirror with a look that implied he had something to say, so Thor accepted the request with a smile. ‘I’ll wait with Tony a few more minutes,’ he suggested.

He glanced around the yard from within the bubble of the car, and he suddenly felt as if he were living in his own memory. The sun was too milky, the light on the dusty stone obtrusively warm. The buildings – peculiarly elegant for garages, but still, of course, utilitarian – seemed idyllic, almost. Every passing cloud made Thor’s heart stutter. Everything felt like it might just slip away, and reveal – well, whatever lay beneath.

Thor was afraid, he realised. Still afraid from the night before. 

As soon as Loki was out of their line of sight, right on queue, Tony turned to him apprehensively. ‘Get in the front,’ he said. Thor obeyed, and then had maybe a half-second window before Tony started bombarding him with questions. ‘What’s happening, what’s wrong?’ he asked. Thor wrinkled his nose in anger.

‘You brought us here today for this _exact_ reason, didn’t you,’ he growled.

Tony put his hands up, pleadingly. ‘Hey, I’m genuinely worried about Loki, here. Like, yeah… I also love a good story, but, you know, I can be real. I won’t tell anyone what you say. Loki, he… he was wandering around like some sort of… withdrawing hobo last night. People don’t behave like that unless there’s really something wrong with them.’

Thor inclined his head, assessing Tony. Tony leaned nearer, dropping his voice to a conspirational whisper. ‘Like… I don’t want to give you shit. It’s not your job to look after him, but-‘ Thor swallowed the guilty feeling that crawled up his throat at this – ‘does he _have_ any other friends?' 

‘Look, Tony-' 

‘Is “Freya” a codename? Are you guys- are you cooking meth?’

Thor groaned. ‘ _Look_ , Tony,’ he said. He wanted to be diplomatic. ‘I appreciate that you’re trying to help. But you’re asking for a betrayal of someone else’s trust, in me, here.’

‘Oh, _gross_. Stop, please. I get it. Man, why do you always fall for the, y’know, the freaky ones? Jane _adores_ you-‘

‘ _Jane._ Don’t start. Not you too. She’s a god damned _limpet._ ’

‘Better than Loki “touch me and I’ll break your arm” Liesmith”.'

Thor’s eyes widened.

‘Oh, yeah, buddy. That’s right. You can’t lie for shit.’

Thor leaned forward, suddenly very quiet and very large. ‘Tony,’ he instructed, without a drop of humour, ‘let it go.’

Tony frowned deeply, but – uncharacteristically – decided at that point to stop pushing. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, quietly.

They sat in silence for a minute or two – Radio 1 on in the background – before Tony coughed and turned off the engine, worried about being able to get back. Thor didn’t think he’d ever heard Tony _not speak_ unless he was working. With the music off it was almost unbearable.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m going inside,’ he decided.

‘Did you know he has PTSD?’ asked Tony, completely out of the blue. ‘Or, like… some sort of trauma-based disorder, at least? Rhodey _and_ Steve – they both work with vets – they pulled me aside _separately_ to talk about it last night, while you were having your little nap. We thought he might fall _apart_.’

Thor gazed evenly at Tony. He thought of the way Loki jumped at the smallest sound, and always stood in a crowded room in the corner with his back to the wall. He thought about how the first thing Loki assessed when he entered the room were the exit points. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I knew.’

Tony, surprisingly, broke Thor’s gaze and looked out across the lot. ‘Thor,’ he asked, ‘what happened to Loki?’

Thor glanced down. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Stay here.’

 

Loki was sitting primly on Freya’s desk with his legs crossed and Freya was leaning against the wall, and she wasn’t shouting. This, if anything, made Loki even angrier. She was trying coolly to address what she called his ‘criminal tendencies’. As if _his_ actions were the problem here, as if _he_ were in the wrong. And, according to the rules of one of the most basic mindgames ever, her dismissive attitude necessitated a projected calmness from him, or he would seem frantic, hysterical (and guilty).

So he lowered his tone. But he was _angry_.

‘You’re avoiding the main problem here,’ he told her through gritted teeth.

‘It shouldn’t be the case,’ she retorted, ‘that in your mind, breaking into someone’s private room and hacking their computer is “not a big deal,” Loki.’

‘I-! For- for crying out loud, your _password_ is “ _vanir_ ”! I didn’t _hack_ anything! You- _You’re_ the one who suggested I start _street racing_ to kill time!’ Here it was. Here was the confirmation of all his fears from last night. Strangely enough, actually being here with Freya and talking about it was almost a relief. 

‘Because if I don’t _channel_ you,’ she said, ‘you- you do ridiculous things like running off-‘

‘Oh, what, am I going to go rob a bank or something now if you don’t keep me busy? _Little Loki-‘_

‘-getting back in touch with _Amora_ , for Christ’s sake-‘

‘-that was _one time!’_ OK, so at this point there was some shouting.‘You’re not my _mother!’_

_‘Don’t_ you play that card, Loki.’

‘ _Why_ do you have to _control_ -’

‘BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU!’ she shrieked, banging her fist against the wall and leaving a mark. Loki had never seen Freya look _ugly_ before. She was always in control. It was so unlike her that he shut up immediately. ‘FUCK! YES!’ she screamed, ‘YOU’RE MY RESPONSIBILITY!’

She stopped, as if she’d suddenly realised where she was, and took a deep, exasperated breath, and put her head in one hand. ‘I made a promise-‘

‘Too bad for you, huh?’

‘-you _know_ that’s not what I mean. I made a promise. Yes. But that’s not the main thing. You’re my…’

‘Duty.’

‘- _Loki_! You’re, Christ alive, you’re my… you’re like, this-‘ she growled in frustration. ‘-Brother! You’re the little brother I never had.’

‘…What?' 

‘You… I… Just… We’re not, we’re never… Just _come here_ , Loki.’

Loki folded his arms and looked away. _What a cop-out_. There was going to be no hugging and no crying today, not if he had his way. Freya didn’t trust him, Freya felt he was a waste of time, there it was. That was exactly what she’d said. He had already known. No weeping, no sloppy sentiment.

‘You already have a little brother,’ he told her, pettily.

‘Freyr is 3 minutes younger than me, he doesn’t really count. Loki, I’m serious, OK? You’re my little brother. And I love you,’ said Freya, meaning it, with her arms spread out.

‘Tch.’ _Lord._ He hadn’t been expecting this.

She sighed. ‘Never think I see you as a burden, Loki Liesmith. Or that I’m not proud of you.’ He had to physically turn around.

‘I just _worry_ , _so much._ And you shouldn’t have come in here- _’_

‘You _lied_ to me,’ he told her, facing the wall. ‘VM is my _home,_ and you wrote me off because you didn’t want me to do something… immoral… to save it, don’t deny it. You didn’t trust me, and you lied. So I guess we’re on even footing here.’

‘I trust you when it comes to everything except yourself, Loki. That’s why it matters to you in the first place- because you undervalue yourself _so much_ , you’re constantly looking for validation from others… you don’t _need_ it, Loki. You’re _wonderful_. And I love you so, so much. Look at me.’

He did. _Don’t cry, you’re ridiculous._

‘You’re incredible, darling.’

‘OK.’

‘OK?’

‘OK. Uh… you too.’ He sniffed, uncasually. _Nice._

Loki scowled. ‘…Except you’re a broke bachelorette in your late twenties.’

‘…Lovely.’

For a moment they simply stared at the each other from across the room. The difference was that now, all the space between them was empty.

Then Loki sighed. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘we have a problem, here. So let’s brainstorm, and try to work it out, OK? Because that’s what you do, that’s what people do.’

And he bit his lip, and said what he’d been thinking since the night before, but hadn’t dared to voice. ‘So… speaking of immoral methods.’ Freya rolled her eyes. ‘There are old contacts… people I know,’ he explained, ‘who could loan-' 

‘ _Absolutely_ not, it’s out of the question. What did I literally just say about you and crime?’

‘Something hypocritical, I’m sure.’

‘ _Loki_.’

He threw his arms out in surrender. ‘ _Fine_ , fine,’ he said. ‘Then I have, as of right now, no capital to put into this business.’

Freya nodded, staring at the floor in deep thought. Trying to come up with something. Loki supposed it wasn’t as if she hadn’t already been working day and night for a way to raise money; it was hardly as if she’d think of something right now.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

There was a knock on the door. Freya jerked her head up, face stormy, while Loki mentally scanned their last few minutes of dialogue to see if anything incriminating had been discussed. There was still so much that he wasn’t ready for Thor to know...

Realistically, he knew he had little to worry about either way. Thor was certainly not the type to eavesdrop.

‘If this is a bad time…’ Thor mumbled, muffled through the door.

Without waiting for consent, Loki got up off the desk he was leaning on and let him in. ‘No, it’s good,’ he said, actually quite relieved that Thor had gotten bored of waiting. His presence was anchoring. ‘We got side-tracked, but… well, we’re thinking of ways to get money. As you know.’

Loki coughed and stepped into the middle of the room. Freya had swapped places with him and was slumped into her office chair, rolling around her desk in a distracting manner. As soon as Thor entered the room, she had reverted to her usual demeanour. …Slinky.

‘I’m just going to throw out there, again,’ Loki said, with a pointed glance at her, ‘that I don’t have any myself.’

She hummed.

‘Er…’ Thor said, ‘me too?’

‘Don’t worry, sweatheart,’ Freya grinned at him, ‘I wouldn’t ask anything of you anyways.’

Thor nodded regally.

Loki turned back to Freya. ‘And we can’t go to a bank, because-‘

The grin snapped off her face. ‘My credit rating, fuck _me_ ,’ she groaned, head in hands. ‘Absolutely not. It’s _them_ I owe most of it to in the first place.’

‘Essentially,’ Thor guessed, ‘we need to not only borrow all this money, but also… to not have to give it back.’

Loki nodded grimly. ‘An investor,’ he said. Freya looked like she was going to cry.

‘ _No_ one,’ she told them, ‘with _half_ a brain is going to- you’d have to be a complete idiot to- what.’

A shit-eating grin was gracing Loki’s countenance. ‘Your brother,’ he told her. Freyr might not be stupid, but he _was_ loyal.

‘Dirt poor.’ Freya dismissed the notion with a handwave. She was resigned to sinking into the chair until she became one with it; the ultimate office zen.

Thor’s eyes, though, lit up. ‘But isn’t Freyr an accountant?’ He asked. ‘He could-‘

‘Ah! He’s on holiday, no service, and, erm, he’s pretty bad at his job anyways,’ Freya blurted hastily from her slump, at the same time that Loki barked out a laugh and a ‘ _what?_ ’

Thor glanced between them, confused, but aware that there was something going over his head, here. He looked imploringly at Loki.

‘Oh… right,’ he said, failing to hide his sheepishness. ‘I see.’ 

Loki, on the other hand, was trying so hard not to laugh, tears were falling from his eyes. He wiped them away as he spoke. ‘Ah… Freyr’s not an accountant, Thor, he’s a PI. He used to work for the FBI, which is why Freya couldn’t tell you the truth before.’

‘I still can’t,’ she told them, shooting Loki a dirty look. ‘For over a _year_.’

‘Oh, well,’ Loki shrugged. ‘You didn’t.’

‘Little shit.’

‘ _Guilty_ , haha.  Oh my God, Freya, an _accountant_. You literally chose- I’m- I… no, no. Sorry.’

‘Let’s not get off track, please,’ Thor rumbled. He made a superb mediator, Loki thought.

‘Right.’ Freya nodded.

And for a while – once again – nobody spoke. Loki wondered if he’d overstepped. He had not been meaning to reveal that to Thor yet. And then, again, there was the problem of the shop. 

There was only one option left on the table, one thing they had between them of any potential worth. Loki knew Freya knew what it was, but was respectfully waiting for Loki to bring it up. Which Loki wasn’t quite willing to risk the foundation of his entire relationship with Thor to do. Not quite.

Which was why he was so surprised when it was _Thor_ who broke the silence.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I guess we’re just going to have to sell the Chevy.’


End file.
